^nifaersiitpofiSortfjCarolina 


Collection  of  i^ortfj  Caroliniana 


This  book  must  not 
be  token  from  the 
Library  building. 


pE  (SlRL  IN  (JHECKS; 


OR, 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE 

MOUNTAIN  CABIN. 


:^^ 


BY  REV.  J.  W.   DANIEL. 


"W^ 


PRICE  75  CENTS. 

Hi.    L.    FICKETT, 

Columbia,  S.  C. 
1892. 


■•  .:iri«Slff«.'«3-«rv;^;>j3-='TT-- 


Entei'ed,  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  i89o. 

By  J.  ^Y.  Daniel, 
in  the  OflSce  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress,  at  Wasliington. 


TO 
CQy  Aged  Father  and  niothet*, 

TO   WHOM,   UNDER   DIVINE  GRACE,  I   OWE   EVERY  THING, 

AND  TO 

my  Beloved  Uiiie  and  Children, 

THE  JOY   OF   MY   LIFE, 

I  Lovingly  Dedicate  This  Volume. 

Author. 

(3) 


to 


3sroTi<3i;. 


The  scenes  and  thoughts  recorded  on  these  pages 
have  struggled  within  me  for  utterance.  I  have  given 
them  to  whosoever  shall  read  this  volume.  I  believe 
they  will  stimulate  thought  on  the  part  of  the  reader, 
and  prove  suggestive  to  every  earnest  heart. 

I  have  no  apology  to  make  for  any  thing  within  these 
pages.  The  scenes,  anecdotes,  and  incidents  have  been 
drawn  from  real  life ;  many  of  them  are  true.  I  am 
free  to  say  the  book  contains  more  "  truth  than  poetry,'^ 
no  matter  how  poorly  expressed.  Author. 

(■i) 


Chapter  I.  page 

Boyhood's  Vision  Realized 9 

Chaptkr  II. 
The  Ratifying  RecejDtion ' 20 

Chapter  III. 
Reveahng  Some  Perplexing  Mysteries 30 

Chapter  I^"". 

Wherein  Are  Recorded  Some  Amusing  Exj^eriences, 
and  Closing  with  a  Tragedy 43 

Chapter  Y. 
Flat  Rock  Church  and  the  Congregation 57 

Chapter  YI. 
Eugene  Dudevant 64 

Chapter  YIL 

Burial  of  Eugene  Dudevant,  and  a  Look  into  the 
Old  Homestead 72 

Chapter  YIII. 
A  Yisit  into  the  Region  Beyond 83 

Chapter  IX. 
The  Find  on  the  Lonely  Mountain-side 100 

Chapter  X. 
Randal  Fox,  Who  Had  No  Love  for  War 109 

.      •  (5) 


6  Contents. 

Chapter  XL  page 

The  Arrest 116 

Chapter  XII. 

Sam  Houston's  Wife's  Journey  to  a  Living  Tomb, 
and  Her  Death 128 

Chapter  XIIL 
How  'Cinda  Retained  Her  Name. 135 

Chapter  XIV. 
The  Distillery,  and  Death  of  Randal  Fox 140 

Chapter  XV. 
The  Grave  on  the  Lonely  Mountain-side 147 

Chapter  XVL 
The  Veil  Lifted  from  the  Mountain  Cabin 158 

Chapter  XVII. 
The  Advent  into  the  World 171 

Chapter  XVIII. 
A  Widow  Driven  from  Home 176 

Chapter  XIX. 
A  Backwoods  Divine  on  Baptism 184 

Chapter  XX. 
A  New-fashioned  Shirt,  and  a  Deer-chase 196 

Chapter  XXI. 
A  Camp-hunt  and  How  It  Terminated 202 


THE  GIRL  IR  eHEGKS. 


©HAF'T'^^  I- 


BOYHOOD'S  VISION   REALIZED. 

BLUE  jeans  and  cottonade  checks,  as  arti- 
cles of  apparel,  are  as  inseparably  con- 
nected with  the  people  inhabiting  the  mount- 
ain-ranges of  Upper  Carolina  as  the  provin- 
cialisms of  their  "cracker"  dialect.  Indeed, 
there  seems  to  be  an  "eternal  fitness"  exist- 
ing between  the  mountaineer  and  his  toilet. 
He  appears  as  much  out  of  place  clad  in  broad- 
cloth or  other  fabrics  as  a  woman  at  the  mast's 
head.  Four  things,  from  some  cause,  have 
been  indissolubly  joined  together:  home- 
raised  tobacco,  clay  pipes,  blue  jeans,  and  the 
mountaineer. 

In  early  boyhood  I  have  stood  many  a  time 
in  the  long,  old-fashioned  piazza  of  the  old 

m 


8  The  Girl  in  Checks. 

mansion  at  the  homestead  in  Laurens  County, 
and  watched,  with  a  great  deal  of  childish  in- 
terest and  with  no  small  degree  of  curiosity, 
the  long  trains  of  covered  wagons  pass  along 
the  public  highway  leading  from  the  mount- 
ains via  Greenville,  S.  C,  which  was  then  a 
small  town,  to  Augusta,  Ga.,  which  in  those 
days  was  the  great  emporium  of  the  mountain 
trade  of  Western  North  and  South  Carolina. 
The  sturdy  mountaineer  hauled  the  scant  prod- 
uce of  his  farm,  chiefly  apples  and  chestnuts, 
across  the  vast  stretch  of  intervening  country, 
and  there  exchanged  it  for  those  commodities 
w^hich  he  could  not  otherwise  procure. 

The  wagons,  in  companies  of  eight  or  ten, 
were  generally  drawn  by  either  four  or  six 
mules ;  and  very  frequently  there  was  attached 
to  the  top  of  the  hames  a  frame  containing  a 
number  of  tiny  bells,  which  kept  up  a  contin- 
uous jingle  as  the  teams  moved  along  the  high- 
way. The  wagons  were  covered  with  great 
white  sheets  of  Osnaburgs  stretched  over  a 
wooden  bow-frame.  Feed-troughs  were  at- 
tached to  the  rear  gates  of  the  great  curved 


BoijhoocVs  Vision  Realized.  9 

bodies,  and  were,  while  moving,  the  receptacle 
of  the  cooking  utensils,  which  kept  up  a  per- 
fect medley  of  any  thing  but  harmonious 
sounds  as  the  great  wagons  jolted  over  the 
rough  roads.  A  large  wooden  tar-bucket  was 
suspended  from  the  center  of  the  rear  axle, 
and  frequently  a  savage-looking  dog  trot- 
ted along  under  the  wagon-bed,  having  been 
trained  to  move  and  stop  with  the  vehicle. 
The  driver  kept  his  place  in  the  saddle  day 
after  day,  and  the  swaying  motion  of  his  body 
diagonally  from  side  to  side  corresponded  pre- 
cisely with  the  strides  of  the  draught  beast 
upon  which  he  sat.  The  loud  crack  of  his 
whip  sounded  like  the  report  of  a  rifle,  and  to 
me  it  was  always  the  signal  of  an  approaching 
train.  Therefore  mountain  wagons  and  cos- 
tumesf  together  with  the  odor  of  mellow  ap- 
ples, tar,  and  home-raised  tobacco  smoke,  were 
indelibly  stamped  on  memory's  page. 

I  frequently  dreamed  of  orchards  hanging 
Tvdtli  great  red  apples,  of  mountains  a  great 
deal  higher  than  the  steep  hills  down  by  the 
ravine,  and  of  many  things,  indeed,  which  my 


10  The  Girl  in  Checks. 

cliiklisli  imagination  associated  with  the  re- 
o;ion  from  which  these  mountaineers  came. 
So  that  in  January,  1880,  as  my  faithful 
horse  climbed  the  steep  acclivities  of  the 
mountain  spurs  of  Upper  South  Carolina,  not- 
withstanding it  had  been  a  long  time  since  my 
eyes  and  nostrils  had  come  into  contact  with 
the  things  mentioned  in  the  first  part  of  this 
paragraph,  I  as  readily  recognized  them  as  if 
they  had  been  the  faces  of  familiar  friends. 
But  these  familiars  were  destined  soon  to  be 
associated  with  scenes  and  mysteries  altogeth- 
er new  and  thoroughly  perplexing  to  me. 

Tom  Thaxton's  name  was  on  the  p/r/n  of  my 
circuit.  He  was  one  of  the  stewards  of  Flat 
Eock  Church.  He  lived  somewhere  in  the 
vicinity  of  the  far-famed  Table  Rock.  The 
bleak  perpendicular  sides  of  that  stupendous 
mass  of  granite  had  already  greeted  my  view 
for  several  hours,  and  now  I  clambered  along 
almost  at  its  very  base.  I  knew  by  my  proxim- 
ity to  this  wonderful  freak  of  nature  that  I  was 
nearing  my  journey's  end,  for  Tom  Thaxton's 
home  was  my  destination.     "  Will  you  be  kind 


Boijhood  's  Vision  Realized.  11 

enough  to  direct  me  to  the  home  of  Mr.  Thax- 
ton?"  I  said  to  a  tall,  cadaverous-looking  man 
whom  I  chanced  to  meet  in  the  highway. 

Bringing  the  breech  of  his  old-fashioned 
rifle  to  the  ground  with  a  thump  that  made 
the  ramrod  quiver  and  rattle  in  its  receiver  as 
if  it  had  been  subjected  to  an  electric  shock, 
and  pushing  his  slouch  woolen  hat  far  back  on 
his  head,  he  replied:  "Beant  you  one  of  them 
revenue  fellows?  " 

Having  assured  him  that  I  was  not,  I  again 
sought  the  desired  information.  But  my  in- 
quiry was  again  met  by  a  reply  that  in  nowise 
pertained  to  the  matter  in  hand. 

"  Stranger,  yer  'pears  to  be  mighty  fresh  in 
these  here  parts,  but  yer  look  like  yer  mout 
hold  a  purty  fa'r  hand  in  an  argimint.  I  han't 
hearn  a  reg'lar  knock-down  vilification  of  the 
way  the  gov'mint's  a  tryin'  to  regerlate  peo- 
ple's private  concerns  since  the  baptizin'  down 
at  'Possum  Creek  las'  summer.  Col.  Good- 
man was  down  thar',  an'  tli  Karnel's  a  power- 
ful knowin'  man  too,  an'  bein  a  can'idate  for 
the  legislatur',  the  Karnel  was  mighty  talka- 


12  The  Girl  in  Checks. 

tive.  He  got  strung  out,  as  we  was  settin'  on 
them  logs  beyant  the  meetin'  house  thess  'fore 
sarvice  begun,  on  the  way  the  gov'mint's  try- 
in'  to  make  ev'ry  man  turn  out  his  crap  an' 
fence  his  cattle.  His  first  pint  was,  sezee: 
*  The  dum  brutes  was  put  outside  when  they 
was  made;  why,'  sezee,  '  beca'se  the  rattle- 
snakes would  take  this  country  ef  the  hogs  was 
not  outside  to  eat  up  their  aigs  an'  young 
uns."  This  second  pint  was  'bout  them  lean 
cows  Pharaoh  saw  a  commin'  outen  the  river. 
The  Karnel's  pow'ful  well-read  in  the  Script- 
ur',  an'  he  showed  us  that  the  dum'  brutes 
would  perish,  all  hemmed  up  in  pastur',  an'  he 
made  it  mighty  clare  that  the  Scripture  was 
a  law.  His  third  pint  was,  sezee :  '  The  land 
in  the  pastur's  would  be  ruined  by  the  cattle  a 
trampin'  over  it  in  wet  weather,  an' '  sezee, 
'the  country  would  soon  become  so  poor  that 
two  men  couldn't  raise  a  fuss  on  a  forty  acre 
field,  let  alone  sprout  a  pea.'  I  tell  you  it 
was  a  master  argiment,  an'  he  went  to  the 
Legislatur'  too,  you  better  believe  it,  old  hoss; 
it  were  that  talk  that  'lected  the  Karnel  as 


Boyhood's  Vision  Realized.  1 


o 


shear's  you  are  a  born  stranger  to  these  dig- 
in's.  Say,  f  ureigner,  you  han't  hearn  how  the 
Karnel  is  gettin'  on  nghtin'  that  stock  law, 
have  you?" 

Seizing  an  opportunity  just  here,  I  told  my 
loquacious  friend  that  the  Colonel  would,  in 
all  probability,  secure  an  exeraption  for  that 
section  of  the  State  from  the  bill  that  was 
then  pending  in  the  Legislature ;  and  hoping  to 
turn  the  current  of  his  conversation  into  the 
desired  channel,  I  ventured  the  assertion  that 
the  mountainous  surface  of  the  country  would 
make  it  impfossible  to  fence  in  a  sufficient  area 
to  pasture  a  large  herd  of  cattle  in  any  one 
place,  and  therefore  that  there  was  no  danger 
whatever  of  the  bill  becoming  a  law  for  that 
portion  of  the  State. 

"  Correct,  shoar's  I'm  a  livin'  man,"  ex- 
claimed the  mountaineer.  "Say,  new-comer, 
you  han't  runnin'  fur  no  office,  are  you? 
That  idee  of  yourn  would  'lect  a  man  to  the 
Senate  shoar's  you  are  a  born  son  of  your 
daddy." 

He  twisted  his   thin  beard,   meditatively. 


14  The  Girl  in  Checks. 

shifted  his  gun  to  the  other  side,  pushed  his 
slouch  hat  still  further  back  on  his  shaggy 
head,  and  continued  :  "  You  tote  good  idees 
an'  wear  store  clothes  an'  say  you  an't  one  of 
them  revenue  fellows,  nor  han't  rannin'  for 
no  office  nuther ;  you  mystifies  a  body. 
Would  you  mind  tellin'  where  you  come  from 
an'  what's  your  business  in  these  parts?" 

Of  course  I  gave  the  honest  inquirer  the 
desired  information,  emphasizing  my  special 
business  at  that  moment — viz.,  to  find  the  way 
to  Tom  Thaxton's  house. 

"Well,  you  han't  fur  from  Tom  Thaxton's 
now;  he  lives  right  on  this  road  an'  about 
two  miles  from  this  p'int.  Tom's  a  mighty 
good  nabor,  an'  thar  an't  but  one  thing  that 
can  be  said  agin  him,  and  that  is  he  han't  got 
right  an'  proper  view  an'  idees  concernin'  the 
Scriptur'.  I'm  a  preacher  of  the  gospel  my- 
self, but  I  han't  the  man  to  fall  out  with  a 
fellow  'cause  he  can't  see  as  I  see,  specially 
with  a  fellow  that  has  'nough  hoss-sense  to 
see  what's  for  the  good  o'  the  country.  Good- 
by,  circuous-rider.     But  hold  on;  would  you 


Boyhood 's  Vision  Bealized.  15 

mind  givin'  a  fellow-laborer  your  paw  in  the 
right  hand  of  fellowship  for  the  good  o'  the 
country?  'Tain't  no  use  in  bein'  strangers,  if 
we  can't  'zactly  gine  hands  in  religion." 

I  gave  his  reverence  the  desired  boon,  and 
hastened  up  the  mountain-side,  determined  in 
my  heart  to  ask  no  one  else  the  way  to  Tom 
Thaxton's  house  until  I  had  exhausted  every 
other  effort  to  find  the  place  of  my  destination. 
I  had  gone  but  a  little  distance  when  the  narrow 
road  began  its  tortuous  descent  into  a  broad, 
beautiful  valley.  Through  this  valley  one 
branch  of  the  prattling  Saluda  swej^t  its  way, 
its  waters  straggling  apparently  to  get  out 
from  under  the  shadow  of  the  great  granite 
cliffs  that  towered  heavenward  on  every  side. 
On  the  west  the  valley  was  bounded  by  Table 
Eock  Mountain.  The  north-east  side  was  shut 
in  by  a  long  range  of  broken,  craggy  mount- 
ains, spurs  of  the  great  Blue  Ridge.  The 
northern  end  of  the  valley  seemed  to  gradually 
lose  itself  among  the  far-away  blue  mount- 
ains that  arose  pile  upon  pile  until  they 
seemed  to  jut  against  the  sky  itself.     South- 


16  The  Girl  in  Checks. 

ward  there  were  quite  a  number  of  little 
mountains,  oval  -  shaped,  which  dotted  the 
widening  expanse  of  country,  and  which,  from 
their  shape,  might  have  been  very  appropri- 
ately christened  the  "  Potato-hills  of  the  Gi- 
ants." The  valley  thus  shut  in  was  dotted 
here  and  there  with  crude  dwelling-houses, 
which  resembled,  from  the  eminence  upon 
which  I  stood,  so  many  chicken  coops  in  a 
barn-yard  with  miniature  chimneys  attached 
thereto. 

Passing  down  into  this  secluded  valley,  there 
came  over  me  a  feeling  of  isolation  and  lone- 
liness— 

So  lonely  'twas,  that  God  himself 
Scarce  seemed  there  to  be. 

Looking  back  over  the  "Potato-hills  of  the 
Giants,"  which  shut  me  in  from  the  broad,  un- 
dulatory  plains  of  my  former  da3'S,  a  heavy 
shadow  came  over  my  soul,  for  they  seemed  to 
rise  up  fixed,  impassable  barriers  between  me 
and  the  old  home  of  my  boyhood  days.  So 
repulsive  was  the  impression  that  I  looked  not 
again  behind  me. 


BoyhoocVs  Vision  Eealized,  17 

Like  one  that  on  a  lonesome  road 

Doth  walk  in  fear  and  dread, 
And  having  once  turned  round,  walks  on 

And  turns  no  more  his  head. 
Because  he  knows  a  frightful  fiend 

Doth  close  behind  him  tread. 

The  granite  hills  of  Table  Kock  to  my  left 
looked  down  on  me  defiantly.  The  towering, 
rock-ribbed  hills  to  my  right  and  in  front 
seemed  to  whisper  trinmphantly:  "Hitherto 
shalt  thou  come,  and  no  farther." 

Reader,  hast  thou  ever  descended  alone  the 
precipitous  declivities  of  som§  towering  mount- 
ain into  the  isolated  vale  beneath,  while  the 
thoughts  of  loved  ones  miles  away  filled  thy 
heart?  Hast  thou  ever  experienced  that  de- 
pressed feeling  of  isolation  that  creeps  over 
the  soul  amid  the  death-like  silence  that  per- 
vades the  coves  and  glens  of  these  "  everlast- 
ing hills,"  and  produces  that  acute  and  inde- 
scribable sense  of  loneliness?  Hast  thon,  like 
the  "  Sweet  Singer  of  Israel,"  ever  been  aIo)te 

in  the  vale? 
2 


18  The  Girl  in  Checks, 

Alone!  that  worn-out  word, 

So  idly  and  so  coldly  heard; 

Yet  all  that  poets  sinsr,  and  grief  hath  known, 

Of  hopes  laid  waste,  knells  in  that  word,  alone. 

Such  were  my  impressions  as  I  began  the  de- 
scent into  the  valley.  I  intuitively  christened 
it  the  "  Yale  of  Loneliness  and  Seclusion." 
Crossing  this  secluded  vale  in  a  north-west- 
erly direction,  I  again  came  to  the  foot  of  the 
mountains,  and  began  the  winding  ascent. 
The  hitherto  painful  silence  was  now  broken, 
for  just  where  the  road  began  its  upward 
course  a  small  creek  leaped  over  the  rocks, 
making  a  perpendicular  descent  of  fifty  feet  or 
more,  forming  a  most  beautiful  cataract,  and 
dispelling  by  its  gushing  music  the  awful,  all- 
pervading  silence  of  the  valley.  I  had  climbed 
the  mountain  for  only  a  short  distance,  how- 
ever, when  I  came  suddenly  upon  a  cabin  by 
the  road-side.  Conjecturing  that  it  was  the 
home  of  Tom  Thaxton,  I  reined  up  my  horse 
in  front  of  the  gate  of  the  low  rail  fence  that 
encircled  the  humble  dwelling.  The  furious 
barking  of  a  large  mastifp  brought  the  house- 


Boijhood's   Vision  Bealized.  19 

wife  to  tlie  door.  I  saluted  lier  and  was  on 
the  eve  of  inquiring  as  to  wlietlier  or  not  I 
was  right  in  my  conjecture,  when  she  relieved 
me  of  that  task  in  rather  an  abrujDt  manner. 
I  was,  indeed,  correct  in  my  anticipations. 
This  was  the  home  of  Tom  Thaxton.  The 
first  utterance  that  fell  from  the  lips  of  my 
prospective  hostess  proved  it  beyond  a  shadow 
of  doubt. 


©HAPT^"^  II. 


THE  RATIFYING  RECEPTION. 

"/^  TOM!  come  to  the  house;  the  new preach- 
\J    er  has  come." 

This  sentence  was  uttered  by  my  hostess  as 
she  stood  in  the  door-way  of  her  cabin  home. 
The  shrill  notes  greeted  the  ears  of  the  plain, 
backwoods  husband,  who  was  engaged  in  dis- 
tributing shucks,  a  hundred  yards  away,  to 
the  cattle  that  had  gathered  into  the  small 
barn-yard,  impatiently  clamoring  for  their 
evening  meal. 

The  introduction  which  I  thus  received 
was  queer  enough,  it  is  true,  but  then  it  was 
to  the  point.  So  much  cannot  be  said  of  all 
introductions.  There  was  no  uncertain  sound 
about  it. 

"The  7iew  preacher  has  come!"  What  an 
apt  guesser!  Could  there  be  any  thing  cler- 
ical in  my  appearance  ?    Surely  not.    But  there 

was  evidently  something  upon  which  she  based 
(20) 


The  Bafiffjiiig  Beception.  21 

her  conjecture.  Perliai^s  it  was  because  I 
wore  "  store  clothes,''  as  my  reverend  "  Hardshell 
brother  "  had  ah-eady  informed  me. 

Such  were  my  thoughts  as  I  alighted  from 
the  tired  steed  that  had  borne  me  so  faithf ull}) 
along  the  x^recipitous  roads  of  that  mountain- 
ous section  to  this,  the  lowly  home  o£  one  of 
my  parishioners. 

"  The  new  preacher!  "  His  coming  was  ev- 
idently an  event  in  the  monotonous  history  of 
that  secluded  home.  But  how  the  words  rung 
in  my  ears!  They  startled  and  paralyzed,  for 
the  moment,  every  energy  of  my  soul.  How 
new  indeed  I  was  in  the  exercise  of  the  func- 
tions of  that  sacred  office  had  never  before 
sunk  so  impressively  into  my  heart.  Never 
before  had  the  sacred  solemnities  and  weighty 
responsibilities  of  this  divinely  instituted  of- 
fice come  upon  me  with  such  crushing  force. 
To  feed  the  flock  of  God  and  to  seek  the  lost 
amid  such  mountain  wilds,  and  in  such  homes 
as  the  one  at  whose  gate  I  now  stood,  involved 
experience  and  demanded  energy,  zeal,  and 
devotion.     I  felt  keenlv  the  lack  of  the  former. 


22  The  Girl  in  Checks. 

and  entirely  incapable  of  exercising  the  latter 
traits  to  that  degree  which  would  insure  suc- 
cess. Indeed,  the  toils  and  transcendent  solic- 
itude of  the  Chief  Shepherd,  as  portrayed  in 
the  parable  of  the  lost  sheep,  loomed  up  be- 
fore me  in  a  light  never  before  realized.  For 
five  years  preceding  this  event  I  had  been 
locked  up  in  the  cloisters  of  a  literary  college, 
going  daily  through  the  routine  work  of  a  stu- 
dent's life,  preparing,  as  I  thought,  for  the  life 
of  a  common  barrister.  But  God  in  his  ten- 
derness and  wonderful  condescension  had  laid 
his  hand  upon  me,  and  I  had  unhesitatingly 
yielded  myself  up  to  him. 

Just  two  months  previous  to  the  event  about 
which  I  am  writing  I  had  received  license  as 
a  local  preacher;  and  just  two  weeks  prior  to 
the  afternoon  of  which  I  have  spoken  I  was 
received  as  "an  applicant  for  admission  on 
trial"  into  the  South  Carolina  Conference,  and 
now  I  stand  before  Tom  Thaxton's  ,£?ate  the 
anxiously-looked-for  '^  new  preacher."  Where 
will  these  transpositions  end'^ 

But  this  spell  was  broken  by  the  presence 


The  Ratify'nu)  Reception.  23 

of  Tom  Tliaxton.  He  was  competent,  as  we 
sliall  see,  to  break  any  spell;  for  he  was  truly 
an  original  character,  unlike  all  other  "  Toms," 
and  as  to  that  unlike  all  other  men.  He  was 
clad  in  the  inevitable  blue  jeans  homespun, 
with  an  ample  supply  of  corn-silks  and  bits  of 
shucks  adhering  to  his  tall,  angular  form, 
bearing  intelligence,  at  least  to  my  faithful 
horse,  that  his  most  pressing  wants  would  be 
speedily  satisfied.  For  as  gentle  "  Bill "  looked 
upon  these  badges  of  what  the  barn  contained 
they  became  to  him  an  earnest  of  his  night's 
lodging ;  hence  he  greeted  the  approach  of  my 
plain  host  with  a  friendly,  obsequious  neigh. 
He  seemed  over-willing  to  give  himself  into 
the  hands  of  this  stranger,  his  instinct  teach- 
ing him  that  he  would  fare  sumptuously.  In- 
deed, so  marked  were  his  demonstrations  that 
I  almost  became  provoked  at  his  obsecjuious- 
ness.  But  nature  is  always  true  to  itself.  The 
marked  deference  which  my  horse  paid  to  this 
stranger  is  in  hearty  accord  with  a  spirit  fre- 
quently observable  in  man.  He  doubtless 
thought  that  warm  and  comfortable  quarters 


p 


24  Tlie  Girl  in  Checks. 

were  at  stake.  AVlien  a  soft  bed  and  downy  pil- 
lows are  the  probable  reward,  man  himself  is 
no  exception  to  such  obsequiousness.  As  de- 
testable as  a  favor-courting  spirit  may  appear, 
that  certain  benefits  may  be  received,  or  that 
certain  apprehended  dangers  may  be  obviated, 
those  persons  who  do  not  practice  more  or 
less  such  demeanors  are  the  very  rare  excep- 
tions. 

Bat  such  verbosity!  What  a  dialect!  Had 
a  few  of  my  old  college  chums  been  there,  how 
they  would  have  heaved  with  laughter!  With- 
out the  least  ceremony  my  host  began  in  this 
strain:  "We  know'd  you'd  be  here.  Betsy 
was  a-sayin'  this  mornin'  that  she  know'd,  in 
reason,  that  you'd  be  here,  beca'se  to-morrow  is 
your  reg'lar  day,  in  course,  out  at  the  Flat, 
and  the  preachers  always  stop  here.  But  what 
might  be  your  name?  We  han't  hearn  who's 
app'inted  to  our  side.  Lou's  gone  fur  the  pa- 
per now.  Betsy  was  a-sayin'  las'  night  that 
she  would  bet  ten  pumj)kins  when  the  app'int- 
ments  come  we'd  get  somebody  we  didn't  know 
nothin'  about.     But  Betsy  will  lose  her  bet 


The  EatifijuKj  Beception.  25 

for  once  in  her  life,  for  you've  outtraveled  the 
app'iutmeuts,  an'  she'll  have  to  eat  her  word, 
shoar,  fur  we'll  I'arn  somethin'  'bout  you  'fore 
Lou  comes  with  the  Advocated 

Just  here  I  seized  an  opportunity  to  make 
known  my  name,  as  my  host  paused  to  get 
breath. 

"Sakes  alive!  I  didn't  know  anybody  was 
named  that  these  days.  But  the  elder  'lowed 
in  his  sarmon  over  at  the  'las  quarterly  meet- 
ing that  history  was  always  repeatin'  itself; 
but  ^e  didn't  think  he  was  a-goin'  to  repeat 
history  on  us  so  soon.  "Well,  Brother  Daniel, 
you  han't  quite  got  into  the  lion's  den,  but  you 
han't  fur  from  it,  for  we  uns  are  mighty  poor 
people  on  this  circuit;  but  then  we  uns  are  pow- 
erful friendly.  An'  it  thess  this  minnit  popped 
into  my  head,  Dave  Lyon  lives  over  on  Oolenoi, 
an'  Dave's  a  Baptist,  an'  he  dearly  loves  to  ar- 
gufy, an'  if  you  should  drop  in  some  time  to 
see  Dave,  you'll  be  in  the  Lyon's  den  as  shoar 
as  you  are  the  new  preacher.  See  here!  Come, 
go  in  to  the  fire  an'  make  yoarself  at  home,  for 
I  know  you  mus'  be  cold.     I'll  'tend  to  you/ 


26  The  Girl  in  Checks. 

creeter.  Betsy!  0  Betsy!  don't  let  Ring  bite 
the  little  preacher." 

What  a  welcome  pause!  for  he  had  certainly 
given  me  enough  to  tax  to  their  utmost  capac- 
ity my  digestive  functions  for  a  few  moments 
at  least. 

"Poor,  but  friendly!"  What  itinerant 
preacher  has  not  lived  long  enough  to  appre- 
ciate friendUneas,  even  when  mixed  with  pov- 
erty? What  itinerant  preacher  has  not  some- 
times groaned,  "being  burdened,"  because — 
situated  as  he  was  even  among  wealthy  and 
independent  parishioners  —  friendship,  the 
kind  that  takes  hold  of  the  itinerant's  heart, 
had  apparently  departed?  What  itinerant  has 
not  rejoiced  at  the  presence  of  this  silver- 
winged  comforter,  even  in  the  homes  of  the 
lowliest?  "Poor,  but  friendly,"  inestimable 
and  precious  kind  of  poverty!  May  it  be  mul- 
tiplied ! 

As  my  host  led  my  horse  away  toward  the 
barn  Betsy  Thaxton  came  into  the  yard  and 
grasped  a  chain,  to  one  end  of  which  was  at- 
tached a  huge  block  of  wood  and  to  the  other 


The  Ratifijing  EeceiJtlon.  27 

a  raging  brindled  dog,  the  only  being  that  dis- 
puted my  right  of  way  to  the  house,  and  the 
only  unfyiemUij  thing  that  greeted  my  ap- 
proach to  the  dwelling  of  this  simple-hearted 
"  child  of  a  King."  And  as  I  kept  practically 
in  view  the  scriptural  injunction,  "Beware  of 
dogs,"  by  giving  a  wide  berth  to  the  savage- 
looking  beast,  there  also  flashed  through  my 
mind  the  experiences  of  the  last  fifteen  min- 
utes. My  host  had  made  free  with  my  name 
by  alluding  to  its  historic  associations;  and, 
not  content  with  that,  had  most  unmercifully 
referred  to  my  littleness  of  stature  as  though 
these  things  were  under  my  control.  I  had 
been  unfortunate  in  this  respect  at  college. 
If  I  happened  to  scratch  my  forehead  with  the 
spiral  of  a  shirt  stud,  in  adjusting  that  gar- 
ment on  a  cold  morning,  the  accident  only 
served  to  bring  me  a  pet  name,  "  Scratch-fore- 
head," varied,  when  the  labors  preparatory  to 
examination  claimed  my  most  diligent  atten- 
tion, to  "Scratch  forward,"  and  at  last  to 
the  by  no  means  euphonious  cognomen  of 
"Scratch,"  for  short. 


28  The  Girl  in  Checks. 

When  I  published  iu  a  newspaper  the  first 
production  of  my  humble  pen,  little  "prepar- 
atory imps "  cried  through  college  hall  and 
over  college  cainpns:  "O  Te}npora!  the  prophet 
has  turned  novelist,  and  the  lions  have  lost  a 
meal."  So  things  moved  for  five  years;  but 
now  I  expected  these  frivolities  to  cease.  But 
not  so,  alas!  And  I  have  long  since  learned 
that  human  nature  is  ever  the  same  the  world 
over.  The  polished  gentleman,  the  mischiev- 
ous school-boy,  and  the  untoward  backwoods- 
man each  appreciates  and  has  his  own  way  of 
appropriating  and  manufacturing  the  ridicu- 
lous. These  puns  and  efforts  at  wit,  with  the 
unlearned  especially,  are  evidences,  though 
not  always  so  received,  of  a  warm  affection,  on 
the  part  of  the  originator,  for  the  one  so  vic- 
timized. I  have  long  since  learned  to  love  the 
soul  that  knows  hov>^  to  launch  forth  puns 
and  jests.  They  are  food  for  the  weary  mind, 
and  refreshing  draughts  to  the  overburdened 
heart. 

Having  stood  the  ordeal,  therefore,  of  my 
host's  witticisms,  and  having  also,  through  the 


The  Eatifijing  Reception.  29 

assistance  of  my  hostess,  passed  the  only  iin- 
friendhj  object — the  ferocious  Ring — I  entered 
for  tlie  first  time  the  door  of  Tom  Thaxton's 
mountain  cabin. 

The  revelations  of  that  mysterious  home  are 
reserved  for  the  next  chapter. 


eHAl®'^£^^  III- 


REVEALING  SOME  PERPLEXING  MYSTERIES. 
O  dear  I  loved  tlie  man,"  that  I  must  say, 

"  I  took  him  for  the  plainest  harmless  creature 
That  l:)reathed  upon  the  earth  a  Christian ; 
Made  him  my  book," 

and  learned  from  him  much  that  has  profited 
and  encouraged  me.  But,  like  all  tlioughtful 
books,  he  was  difficult  to  read  as  I  would  have 
read  him.  Tom  Thaxton  was  indeed  original, 
suggestive,  and  amusing.  But,  best  of  all,  he 
was  orthodox  to  the  core,  practically  and  the- 
oretically. 

Such  was  my  estimate  of  him  when  I  learned 
him.  He  was  well  matched;  for  so  soon  as 
I  sat  down  before  the  blazing  log-heap  that 
crackled  cheerily  in  the  broad  fire-place  I 
learned  that  Betsy  Thaxton  knew  how  to  ask 
questions  and  make  comments.  As  she  went 
about  preparing  the  evening  meal  at  the  fire 
by  which  I  sat  she  learned  from  me  the  ap- 
(=iO) 


ReveaUng  Some  Peri)lexinfj  Mysteries.      31 

pointments  of  all  tlie  ministers  with  whom  she 
had  been  associated  in  former  years.  She 
talked  much  of  their  virtues  and  idiosyncra- 
sies, and  then,  by  a  well-framed  cross-exam- 
ination, she  seemed  determined  to  ascertain 
all  that  it  was  proper  to  know  concerning  the 
person  of  the  new  preacher,  winding  up,  as  she 
I)laced  the  last  di,sh  upon  the  table,  with  the 
very  personal  declaration:  "My  child,  you've 
got  a  heap  to  learn." 

Just  as  my  hostess  reached  that  important 
climax  my  host  entered  the  house,  having 
completed  the  chores,  and  we  drew  our  chairs 
around  the  table  preparatory  to  taking  our 
evening  meal.  Of  course  I  knew  that  all  or- 
thodox Methodists  began  their  meals  by  in- 
voking God's  blessing,  but  I  confess  no  little 
mental  confusion  when  my  host  bid  me  "  make 
a  heginninfj,'"  and  had  not  he  and  his  devoted 
wife  reverently  bowed  their  heads  I  am  afraid 
that  I  w^Quld  not  have  grasped  the  meaning  of 
that  utterance.  My  appetite  was  keen  enough, 
after  the  long  day's  ride,  but  I  soon  discov- 
ered that  I  would  be  compelled  to  satisfy  it  by 


32  The  Girl  in  Checks. 

eating  hiticeen  times.  Much  of  my  time  was 
cousumed  by  answering  t^uestions  from  both 
sides  of  the  house.  However,  when  the  meal 
was  conchuled  and  the  time  came  to  return 
thanks,  I  was  readier  to  catch  the  meaning  of 
my  host  when  he  asked  me  to  "  make  an  ending:' 
Such  decorum  may  seem  strange  to  those 
who  have  been  reared  amid  the  refining  influ- 
ences of  cultivated  society;  but  when  we  take 
into  consideration  the  environments  and  iso- 
lating circumstances  of  these  mountaineers,  it 
is  altogether  excusable.  They  are  separated 
from  the  outside  world,  and  are  literally  hun- 
gry ioY  news.  At  best,  mails  reach  them  but 
once  a  week,  and  to  many  even  this  privilege 
is  denied.  It  is  said  that  eager  crowds  run 
along  for  quite  a  distance  after  coaches  on  the 
frontier,  asking  the  driver  many  questions  rel- 
ative to  occurrences  in  the  States.  Caesar  in- 
forms us  that  the  barbaric  tribes  of  ancient 
Gaul  were  accustomed  to  gather  around  the 
traders  who  entered  their  territory  and  ask 
many  questions  relative  to  the  outside  world. 
These  traders,  we  are  informed,  often  invented 


BevealuKj  Some  Perplexing  Mysteries.      33 

marvelous  stories,  aud  related  them  just  to 
witness  the  great  surprise  and  large  wonder 
on  the  part  of  the  interested  listeners. 

What  a  wonderful  economy  is  ours!  It 
meets,  and  in  a  large  measure  satisfies,  this 
natural  propensity  on  the  part  of  the  most  iso- 
lated member  of  the  Church.  Not  only  has 
every  Methodist  preacher  the  inestimable  priv- 
ilege of  imparting  information  to  the  most  ig- 
norant backwoodsman,  but  our  noble  plan  of 
pastoral  and  itinerant  work  enables  each 
preacher  to  become  thoroughly  acquainted 
with  the  prominent  characteristics  of  his  field 
of  labor,  oftentimes  before  he  is  twenty-four 
hours  on  the  work,  thus  becoming  a  hooh  for 
the  people,  and  at  the  same  time  studying 
them  as  his  hooh. 

Such,  indeed,  was  the  memorable  experience 
of  my  first  night  at  Tom  Thaxton's.  When  he 
•had  exhausted  his  ample  store  of  questions,  he 
turned  i}iformer.  All  the  peculiar  Church 
characters  in  the  community  were  painted  in 
his  homely  way,  and  stood  before  me,  soon  to 
be  met,  as  I  afterward  realized,  as  real  living 


3 


84  The  Girl  in  Checks. 

beings.  The  important  news  tliat  I  ^vas  in  a 
"Hard-sliell"  community  must  not,  of  course, 
be  Avitlilield  from  me. 

"They  won't  fellowship  any  of  us.  They 
don't  believe  in  book-larnin',  either,  an'  it  won't 
be  many  days  'fore  some  of  'em'll  be  a-cuttin' 
at  you.  You  just  ought  to  hear  'em  preach. 
Their  preachers  are  as  thick  as  feathers  on  a 
duck's  back  'round  here.  Parson  Pond  duck 
had  it  'nounced  an'  n orated  that  he  was  goin' 
to  preach  a  sarmon  on  the  'postolic  mode  of 
baptism  las'  Sunday,  an'  I  rid  ovei  to  hear  him. 
His  text  was:  *  Thus  it  becometh  us  to  fulfill  all 
righteousness.'  He  didn't  tell  us  whar  it  was, 
but  said  it  mout  be  found  betwixt  the  lids  of 
the  Bible.  'Pears  mighty  strange  that  they 
won't  tell  whar  their  text  is.  Betsy  has  been 
a-huntin'  for  it.  She  don't  believe  it's  inside 
the  lids  of  the  Bible,  beca'se  the  j)arson 
wouldn't  tell  whar  it  w^as;  but  I  told  her  it 
sounded  powerful  like  Scriptur'  to  me.  But 
the  text  and  sarmon  wa'n't  no  kin." 

"  Can  you  give  me  his  exegesis  of  the  text?  " 
I  asked. 


Bevecdiiig  Some  Perplexing  Mysteries.      35 

"Sakes  alive!  There  wa'n't  none  iu  it.  He 
didn't  say  a  word  'bout  them  Greek  words. 
But  Brother  Slater  told  us  all  'bout  them  eks 
and  inSj  an'  all  'em  Greek  w^ords  when  he 
preached  on  baptism  for  us  down  at  the  Flat. 
He  splained  'em  all  so  that  they  w^ere  power- 
ful clare  to  my  mind.  I  tell  you  he  was  a  mas- 
ter preacher.  But  Parson  Pondduck  didn't 
touch  on  that  line;  an'  he  didn't  say  a  word 
'bout  circumcision,  for  he  know'd  all  them 
things  w^ere  ag'in'  him,  an'  that  he  couldn't 
crawd  over  them.  'Pears  powerful  strange  to 
me  that  they  can't  see  nothin'  in  water  but  a 
grave,  anyhow.  He  talked  powerful  'fecting 
'bout  the  water 3^  grave,  an'  said  nobody  would 
ever  go  to  heaven  but  them  that  w^ent  through 
that  grave.  He  said  that  the  watery  grave  w^as 
the  narrow  way  that  our  Saviour  spoke  of,  be- 
ca'se  every  man  just  made  a  hole  to  fit  himself 
as  he  went  down  into  the  narrow  stream. 
'Peared  to  me  it  was  a  shallow  an'  sloppy  way 
too.  He  'lowed  'the^  Primitive  Baptists  w^ere 
the  few  that  entered  therein.  Thev  w^ould  be 
saved  beca'se  '  Thus  they  fulfilled  all  righteous- 


36  The  Girl  in  Checks. 

ness.'  He  said  that  sprinkliu'  an'  pourin'  an* 
all  them  highf alutin'  an'  do-as-you-please  ways 
were  the  broad  way  that  led  down  to  destruc- 
tion. I  tell  you  the  members  took  on  awfully, 
an'  I  believe  they  thought  it  was  the  pure  gos- 
pel. But  that  sarmon  didn't  sound  much  like 
the  Scriptur'  to  me.  As  we  come  off  from  the 
church,  I  rid  along  with  Deacon  Jones,  an'  sez 
I  to  him : , '  Parson  Pondduck  didn't  nigh  stick 
to  his  text  to-day,  'cordin'  to  my  notion.'  He 
'lowed  'twas  clare  as  the  sun  to  him  that  Par- 
son Pondduck  tracked  the  Scriptur'  from  be- 
ginnin'  to  eend.  Sez  I  to  him,  sez  I, '  It  stands  to 
reason,  then,  that  everybody  will  be  lost  but  you 
uns.'  He  'lowed,  sez  ee,  to  me,  sez  ee,  that  some 
mout  be  saved  in  furren  countries,  where  they 
didn't  have  the  Scriptur'  to  read,  beca'se,  sez 
ee,  they  were  without  the  gospel,  an'  the  Lord 
might  take  pity  on  their  ignorance  an'  save 
them;  but,  sez  ee,  in  this  enlightened  land 
where  the  Scriptur'  is  expounded,  that  it  was 
just  as  Parson  Pondduck  had  said.  Just  then 
'Cinda  Smith  overtuck  us.  An'  'Cinda  is  a 
Methodist  from  the  crown  of  her  head  to  the 


Revealing  Some  Perplexing  Mysteries.      37 

soles  of  lier  feet.  It  would  a  done  you  good 
just  to  liearu  her  jine  in  the  argufication.  Sez 
she,  '  It  Stan's  to  reason,  then,'  sez  she,  'if  Par- 
son Pondduck  is  right  'bout  the  'Hard-shell' 
Baptists  bein'  all  that's  goin'  to  be  saved,  that 
heaven  would  have  to  l^e  rented  out.  An','  sez 
she,  'it's  'cordin'  to  Scriptur',  too,  beca'se,'  sez- 
she,  *  I  hearn  Elder  Simpkins  prove  outeu  the 
Bible  down  at  the  Cave  when  quarterly  meetin' 
was  held  there  that  heaven  was  a  mighty  big 
place.'  An'  she  'lowed,  sez  she,  everybody 
that  know'd  any  thing  know'd  there  wer'n't 
many  'Hard-shell'  Baptists  in  the  world;  'not 
enough,'  sez  she,  'to  fill  one  corner  of  heaven.' 
She  'lowed  there  wer'n't  enough  of  them  to 
keep  the  music  a-goin'  an'  to  tend  to  the  purty 
flowers  in  the  green  fields  of  Eden.  *An','  sez 
she,  *  it  stands  to  reason  in  my  mind  that  un- 
less it's  rented  out  you  uns  will  have  a  power- 
ful hard  time  a-doin'  all  them  things  the  Script- 
ur' speaks  of  bein'  carried  on  there.'  You  just 
ought  to  seed  Deacon  Jones  bile  over.  He 
han't  said  a  word  to  me  'bout  baptism  since. 
Never  mind,  they'll  be  out  as  thick  as  hail  at 


38  The  Girl  in  Checks, 

the  Flat  to-morrow  to  hear  you  preach;  that 
is,  if  it  is  a  day  fitten,  and  " — 

I  know  not  what  my  host  would  have  said, 
for  just  then  his  sentence  was  broken  by  the 
entrance  of  a  young  lady,  whom  Tom  Thaxton 
introduced  as  his  daughter. 

The  amusing  experiences  and  theological 
controversies  related  by  my  host  had  already 
driven  sleep  away  from  my  tired  body.  I  had 
been  amused,  bewildered,  and  mortified,  and, 
I  must  say,  instructed.  Indeed,  that  such 
people  as  these,  to  whom  the  bishop  had  sent 
me,  existed  within  the  bounds  of  my  native 
State  was  really  stranger  to  me  than  fiction. 
That  such  theology  (?)  was  taught  in  the  nine- 
teenth century,  and  that,  too,  within  the  bounds 
of  an  enlightened  and  civilized  country,  was  a 
truth  that  the  schools  had  failed  to  teach  me. 

But  heivildered  as  I  had  been,  bewilderment 
is  scarcely  an  adequate  term  by  which  to  ex- 
press the  state  of  my  mind  as  I  stood  confront- 
ing the  maid  who  had  just  entered — Louise 
Thaxton.  She  was  tall,  graceful,  queenly,  just 
blooming  into  young  womanhood.     Her  feat- 


Revealing  Some  Petyleximj  Mysteries,     39 

ures  were  delicate,  and  her  facial  expression 
was  o£  the  most  intellectual  cast.  In  a  word, 
her  rare  physical  beauty,  her  cultured  deport- 
ment, and  the  evidence  she  gave  of  cultivation 
and  refinement  were  in  strange  contrast  with 
her  surroundings. 

I  looked  up  at  the  crude  old  family  clock, 
and  it  was  just  nine.  I  had  previously  learned 
from  my  host  that  Louise  Thaxton  had  been 
on  her  weekly  errand  to  the  nearest  little  town, 
nearly  twenty  miles  away,  for  the  purpose  of 
getting  the  mail  and  procuring  also  whatever 
little  articles  the  family  was  compelled  to  make 
use  of,  and  which  could  not  be  manufactured 
at  home.  That  long  journey  had  been  per- 
formed in  the  primitive  style,  on  horseback. 
Since  darkness  had  thrown  its  sable  shadows 
over  her  pathway  the  road  she  traveled  had 
led  her  through  the  dark  valleys  and  over  the 
towering  crags  of  the  lofty  spurs  of  the  Blue 
Eidge.  The  oppressive  silence  of  that  ride 
had  been  interrupted  only  by  the  melancholy 
sound  of  the  rushing  cataracts,  the  occasional 
scream  of  the  owls  and  night-birds  that  in- 


40  The  Girl  in  Checks. 

fested  the  coves  of  that  wild  and  lonesome  re- 
gion, and  perhaps  the  doleful  howl  of  the  cat- 
amount as  it  sought  its  prey  among  the  rugged 
cliffs. w  An  untimely  hour,  to  be  sure,  for  the 
return  of  an  unaccompanied  and  unprotected 
girl.  I  afterward  learned,  however,  that  such 
was  the  custom  of  the  x^eople  of  this  isolated 
region,  because  the  natural  environments  and 
surroundings  of  these  hardy  mountaineers 
have  begotten  in  them  an  intrepidity  worthy 
of  the  bravest.  This  bold,  fearless  spirit  is 
common  to  both  sexes.  But  these  were  les- 
sons learned  long  after  that  eventful  night  of 
which  I  am  writing.  And  that  an  unprotected 
girl  should  have  performed  such  a  journey, 
and  on  her  return  unsaddled,  stabled,  and  fed 
her  steed,  was  to  me  simply  marvelous.  But 
what  most  perplexed  me  was  the  problem  of 
the  existence  of  one  of  such  rare  beauty,  re- 
fined deportment,  and  cultured  speech  in  such 
a  home,  one  so  crude  and  primitive  as  Tom 
Thaxton's.  How  could  it  be  that  one  reared 
by  those  who  spoke  the  cracker  dialect,  and 
who  was  completely  separated  from  refined 


EeveaVnig  Some  Perplexing  Mysteries.     41 

and  polished  society,  should  speak  our  lan- 
guage with  the  precision  and  elegance  of  a 
Macaulay,  and  at  the  same  time  exhibit  the 
deportment  of  the  most  refined? 

As  Louise  Thaxton  stood  before  me  the  very 
impersonation  of  an  ideal  beauty,  clad  in 
homespun  cottonades,  while  rough,  home- 
made leather  shoes  incased  her  small,  hand- 
somely shaped  feet — a  veritable  mountain  girl 
in  dress  and  general  attire — but  in  speech, 
carriage,  and  deportment  a  pure  lily  of  the 
valley,  I  forgot  the  amusing  experiences  of  the 
last  few  hours,  and  sat  fixed  to  the  chair,  un- 
able to  wrench  my  gaze  from  her  enrapturing 
person.  Tom  Thaxton's  tongue,  however,  ran 
unceasingly  on,  but  his  words  made  little  or 
no  impression  on  me.  Even  our  evening  de- 
votions failed  to  banish  from  my  mind  for  a 
moment  the  mysterious  problem  that  had  so 
unexpectedly  confronted  me.  Even  when  as- 
signed to  my  little  and  scantily  furnished 
chamber  sleep  was  driven  from  me,  while  I 
lay  pressed  down  into  the  great  feather-bed 
by  the  bountifiil  supply  of  home-woven  coun- 


42  The  Girl  in  Checks. 

terpanes  and  woolen  blankets  that  Betsy  Thax- 
ton  had  been  so  careful  to  place  over  the  bed, 
that  the  cold  winds  of  January,  which  howled 
through  the  cracks  of  my  apartment,  might  not 
reach  my  tired  body.  My  person  was  there- 
fore doubly  protected  from  the  cruel  cold,  but 
the  mystery  that  enveloped  one  member  of 
that  isolated  family  drove  sleep,  sweet  sleep, 
from  my  eyes,  and  tortured  cruelly  the  inner 
man. 
^     O  sleep !  O  gentle  sleep ! 

Nature's  soft  nurse,  how  have  I  frighted  thee. 
That  thou  no  more  wilt  weigh  my  eyelids  down. 
And  steep  my  senses  in  forgetfulness? 


©HAT^'T"^^  ^^• 


WHEREIN  ARE  RECORDED  SOME  AMUSING  EXPERI- 
ENCES, AND  CLOSING  WITH  A  TRAGEDY. 

THE  chamber  which  I  occupied  was  located 
at  one  end  of  a  little  piazza.  Those  who 
have  traveled  in  the  mountains  will  recognize 
this  very  necessary  appendage  of  a  first-class 
mountain  cabin. 

Early  on  the  following  morning  I  was 
aroused,  having  fallen  asleep  just  before  day, 
from  this  quiet  retreat  by  a  loud  rap  on  the 
door  of  the  little  chamber,  accompanied  by  the 
familiar  voice  of  Tom  Thaxton:  "Git  up;  ive 
Hits  are  ready  for  to  eat." 

I  hastily  adjusted  my  toilet.  The  sun's  rays 
were  darting  through  the  cracks  of  my  room, 
bringing  to  me  the  intelligence  that  the  winds 
had  blown  away  the  lowering  clouds,  and  fur- 
thermore impressing  me  with  the  fact  that  it 
would  be  "a  day  ftfen,''  according  to  Tom 

Thaxton's  cracker  phraseology,  for  my  strange 

(43) 


44  The  Girl  in  Checks. 

auditors  to  turn  oxnten  masse.  These  precious 
rays,  uotwitlistaiidiiig  the  "  Hard-shell "  audi- 
ence they  might  bring,  came  to  me  like  the  in- 
fluence and  associations  of  a  precious  gift  from 
a  kind  friend.  God's  gifts  are  common  to  all 
men.  No  matter  how  far  we  may  be  separated 
from  those  we  love,  or  what  circumstances  may 
surround  us,  God's  precious  gifts  are  always 
present  with  us;  we  cannot  be  sej^arated  from 
them.  God  had  caused  the  wdnds  to  sweep 
away  the  clouds.  O  that  a  like  dispensation 
of  an  omniscient  Father  would  lift  the  clouds 
of  mystery  that  have  involuntarily  overshad- 
owed my  mind!  ^ 

Such  were  my  meditations  as  I  kneeled  by 
the  side  of  my  bed  and  poured  out  my  soul  in 
thanksgiving  and  adoration  for  the  blessings 
and  loving-kindness  of  a  gracious  Father. 

When  I  had  finished  my  devotions,  and  be- 
gan to  search  for  a  basin  in  which  to  bathe 
my  burning  eyes,  alas!  there  v/as  none.  Such 
neglect  was  unpardonable.  I  was  almost  vexed. 
But  "  while  in  Rome  we  must  do  as  Rome 
does."     I  was,   however,   soon   relieved  from 


Some  Amusing  Experiences.  45 

this  embarrassing  situation  by  the  re-appear- 
ance of  my  host,  Avho  rapped  upon  the  door 
and  said:  "When  you  get  ready  to  wash  your 
face  an'  ban's,  just  come  out  to  the  spout."  I 
stepped  out  into  the  little  piazza,  and  thence 
followed  my  host  into  the  narrow  yard  back  of 
his  dwelling.  The  scene  that  was  there  opened 
up  to  me  was  truly  enrapturing.  The  mount- 
ain, on  the  side  of  which  the  house  was  located, 
rose  sublimely  perpendicular,  almost,  from 
the  very  underx^inning  of  the  dwelling.  In- 
deed, the  sides  of  the  mountain  had  been  dug 
away  so  as  to  make  level  the  site  of  the  little 
log  cabin.  The  rays  of  the  early  morning's 
sun  flashed  upon  the  hugh  masses  of  dripping 
rock;  thence  they  w^ere  reflected,  causing  these 
immense  piles  of  granite  to  resemble  enormous 
bowlders  of  pure  glass.  Away  up  the  mount- 
ain-sido  a  little  stream  leaped  over  the  per- 
pendicular rocks,  forming  a  most  beautiful 
cascade.  The  streamlet  lined  the  rugged 
mountain-side  like  a  thread^  of  silver,  contin- 
ually rushing  dowm,  down  toward  the  dark  val- 
ley beneath  us.     Now  it  is  lost  behind  the  stu- 


46  The  Girl  in  Checks, 

pendous  piles  of  earth  and  rock;  again  it  darts 
forth  like  a  ray  of  light,  lea^^ing  out  of  the 
earth  itself.  Nearer  and  yet  nearer  it  ap- 
proaches, forming  all  along  its  pathway  num- 
bers of  little  cascades  transcendently  beauti- 
ful, but  less  imposing  than  the  larger  one 
higher  up  the  mountain.  On  and  on  it  came 
until  its  pellucid  waters,  fresh  from  the  heart 
of  the  mountain,  poured  through  a  wooden 
spout  and  fell  in  a  crystal  stream  at  our  feet. 
In  that  beautiful  stream  of  pure  water,  fresh 
from  the  reservoirs  of  the  "everlasting  hills," 
I  bathed  on  that  beautiful  Sunday  morning  in 
January,  1880.  Little  did  I  then  dream  that 
at  some  future  day,  as  I  should  wander  along 
the  banks  of  that  little  rill,  tracing  it  up  the 
steep  mountain-side,  there  would  suddenly 
burst  upon  me  the  full  revelation  of  the 
"mystery  of  the  mountain  cabin,"  yet  such 
was  the  case. 

Enraptured  by  the  handiwork  of  Him  who 
"marshals  the  hosts  of  heaven  and  thunders 
forth  in  the  artillery  of  the  clouds,"  who  once, 
Himself,  tabernacled  on  Sinai's  summit,  and 


Some  Amusing  Experiences.  47 

fringed  the  cloud-curtains  of  His  pavilion  with 
the  forked  lightning,  I  made  my  first  effort  at 
pastoral  conversation.  I  was  the  child  and 
humble  ambassador  of  the  great  First  Cause 
of  this,  His  magnificent  handiwork.  Must  I 
not  speak  of  His  "  tender  mercies  and  loving- 
kindnesses?"  The  effort  was  difficult,  yet  in 
some  measure,  at  Jeast,  it  was  accomplished. 

" How  thankful,"  I  said,  "Brother  Thaxton, 
we  should  be  for  the  inestimable  blessings  our 
Father  bestows !  uj^on  us  and  yet  we  often  pass 
them  by  unnoticed.  We  have,  this  morning, 
an  unclouded  sky,  and  a  bright,  beautiful  Sab- 
bath. It  seems  that  God  has  made  special 
provisions  for  his  children  to-day,  not  only  giv- 
ing them  a  beautiful  day  in  which  to  attend 
upon  his  worship,  but  so  far  as  we  are  con- 
cerned, at  least,  he  has  crowned  us  with  health 
of  body  and  peace  of  mind.  I  hope  you  enjoy 
religion  and  cultivate  a  spirit  of  thanksgiving, 
Brother  Thaxton." 

Such  was  my  first  effort  at  speaking,  pri- 
vately, a  word  for  my  Master's  cause;  and  I 
shall  never  forget  what  a  trial  my  risibilities 


48  The  Girl  in  Checks. 

sustained  when  I  turned  away  from  the  spout 
and  confronted  my  host. 

There  he  stood,  the  very  impersonation  of 
surprise.  The  long,  coarse  towel,  with  which 
I  was  to  dry  my  face,  was  thrown  across  his 
shoulder,  his  hands  were  thrust  deep  into  the 
pockets  of  his  trousers,  his  eyes  were  dilated, 
and  his  lips  were  slightly  parted  with  large 
wonder;  and  as  I  reached  forth  and  drew  the 
towel  from  his  shoulder  he  began  his  reply: 
"  Sakes  alive!  I  thought  you  were  a-preach- 
in' ;  why,  you  didn't  think  I  an't  got  religion, 
did  you?  Yes,  sir,  I  come  through  just  twen- 
ty-two years  ago,  if  I'm  spared  to  see  the  16th 
day  of  July  comin'.  I  come  through  just 
about  sundown  at  Bald  Knob  Camp-meetin'. 
I  tell  you  what!  preachers  could  preach  in 
them  days.  They  knowed  the  Scriptur'  same 
as  I  know  my  name.  I  wa'n't  a  member  of  the 
Church  then,  an'  as  I  had  laid  by  my  crap,  an* 
had  nothin'  to  do,  think's  I,  I'll  go  down  to  the 
meetin'  mostly  for  to  see  an'  be  seed.  But,  I 
tell  you,  I  soon  seed  I  was  lost  accordin'  to 
what  the  Scriptur'  said,  an'  somehow  or  some- 


Some  Amusing  Experiences.  49 

how  else  I  felt  powerful  pestered.  I  don't  think 
I  ever  sperienced  such  botherment  in  my  life, 
beca'se  I  knowed  I  hadn't  been  a-livin'  right. 
So  I  just  hauled  down  my  colors,  an'  give  right 
up,  beca'se  I  seed  'tw^a'n't  no  use  to  fight  ag'in' 
the  Almighty.  An'  I  han't  made  no  spirits 
since,  nor  drunk  none  nuther;  an'  it's  kept  me 
out'n  a  sight  o'  trouble,  too,  as  shear's  Betsy's 
my  partner  for  life.  'Tan't  no  news  to  me  that 
I  had  ought  to  be  thankful,  as  you  say,  for 
don't  the  Scriptur'  say :  '  The  way  of  the 
transgressor  is  hard? 

I  do  not  know  wdiat  practical  application 
this  rough,  though  pure-hearted  mountaineer, 
would  have  made  of  this  scriptural  quotation; 
for  just  as  he  uttered  it  we  heard  the  clatter  of 
horses'  feet  rapidly  descending  the  mountain. 
Anon  there  swept  by  the  humble  dwelling  a 
company  of  United  States  revenue  officials, 
bearing  along  with  them  two  men,  who  were 
evidently  citizens. 

My  host  shaded  hife  eyes  wath  his  hand  to 
protect  them  from  the  dazzling  rays  of  the 
sun,  as  he  looked  after  the  flying  horsemen, 


50  TJie  Girl  in  Checks. 

and  continued:  "Yes,  'tan't  no  use  in  trying 
to  get  'round  Scriptur'.  '  The  way  of  the  trans- 
gressor is  hard.'  There  goes  Billy  Jones  and 
Mike  Green,  an'  I  tole  the  boys  no  longer'n 
night  afore  las'  that  'em  fellers  would  make  a 
raid  on  'em.  Poor  boys,  I  feel  sorry  for  'em, 
but  'tan't  no  use  a-bein'  sorry  for  folks  that 
won't  have  no  pity  on  theirselves,  an'  won't 
take  no  advice." 

There  was  a  vein  of  practical  philosophy  in 
this  ignorant  man's  observations.  But  most 
of  all  I  could  not  doubt  the  genuineness  of  his 
conversion,  and  the  thoroughness  of  his  Chris- 
tianity. He  was  evidently  a  big-hearted,  whole- 
souled  Christian  man,  but  his  generosity  must 
be  shown  in  his  own  crxide  way.  And  such 
characters  are  indeed  the  world's  greatest  ben- 
efactors. He  w^as  one  of  that  class  of  individ- 
uals we  occasionally  meet  who  never  tire  of  talk-  , 
ing,  and  who  have  the  rare  facility  of  passing 
from  one  subject  to  another  without  any  break 
whatever  in  the  conversation.  We  always  list- 
en to  such  men,  whether  they  are  men  of  at- 
tainments or  otherwise.     ProAadence  seems  to 


Some  Amusing  Exper'iences.  51 

favor  them  b}'  always  e^'olving  for  them  just 
the  incidents  and  occurrences  suited  to  their 
linguistic  talents.  While  others  are  thinking 
what  to  say,  their  tongues  run  unceasingly  on, 
and  they  have  the  rare  facility  of  appropri- 
ating whatever  comes  along.  I  cannot  even 
guess  where  this  good  man's  experiences  and 
observations  would  have  ended.  He  had  got- 
ten from  his  conversion  at  Bald  Knob  Camp- 
ground to  illicit  whisky-making,  and  was  rap- 
idly moving  on  toward  the  United  States 
prison,  when  my  hostess  summarily  broke  the 
line  of  conversation  by  announcing  breakfast. 
I  sat  opposite  Louise  at  the  breakfast-table, 
hence  I  had  a  better  opportunity  of  studying 
her  physiognomy.  There  was  not  the  slight- 
est resemblance  in  her  facial  features  to  either 
Tom  or  Betsy  Thaxton.  Neither  was  there  an 
utterance  of  her  tongue  which  bordered  on  the 
provincialisms  and  the  cracker  dialect  of  the 
other  two  inmates  of  that  home.  This  vivid 
contrast  caused  me  to  break  through  all  con- 
ventionalities in  the  fruitless  endeavor  to  as- 
certain  the  cause  of  this  marked  difference 


52  The  Girl  in  Checks. 

between  the  parents  and  the  child.  I  there- 
fore unceremoniously  asked:  "  Where  were 
you  educated,  Miss  Louise?  " 

She  blushingly  met  my  gaze,  and  replied 
with  becoming  diffidence:  "I  have  never  been 
so  fortunate,  sir.  We  are  destitute  of  schools 
here.  My  mother,  however,  taught  me  to  read, 
and  instructed  me  in  the  rudiments  of  our 
language." 

Alas!  my  first  question  elicited  an  answer 
that  thrilled  my  being  with  another  problem, 
while  it  brought  forth  no  light  relative  to  tho 
one  I  desired  to  solve.  Could  it  be  that  Tom 
Thaxton  had  been  twice  married?  One  thing, 
how^ever,  was  evident:  Betsy  Thaxton  was  not 
the  mother  of  Louise.  But  what  course  must 
I  adopt?  Shall  I  violate  the  law  of  propriety, 
to  say  the  least,  and  interrogate  the  inmates  of 
this  mysterious  home  about  matters  that  in  no- 
wise concern  me?  Surely  I  could  not  so  far 
forget  every  sense  of  propriety.  Hence  I  de- 
termined to  change  my  tactics.  My  very  in- 
stinct, as  it  w^ere,  taught  me  that  honest  Tom 
Thaxton  had  no  secrets.     I  determined,  there- 


Some  Am  using  Experiences.  53 

fore,  not  to  educe  the  knowledge  which  I  so 
much  desired  from  him  by  questioning  him 
directly  about  his  own  private  family  matters. 
I  resolved  to  cultivate  the  grace  of  patience, 
and  to  adroitly  turn,  from  time  to  time,  Tom 
Thaxton's  conversation  into  certain  channels, 
knowing  that  these  plain  mountaineers  talk 
almost  exclusively  of  what  they  have  at  some 
time  observed  or  experienced.  In  a  word,  I 
concluded  to  let  him  do  that  work  which  he 
was  so  willing  to  perform,  and  for  which  nat- 
nre  had  so  admirably  fitted  him — talk  about 
every  thing  he  had  seen,  heard,  or  felt — hop- 
ing that  by  so  doing  he  would  let  fall  some 
clew  to  the  mystery  in  his  own  household.  I 
therefore  addressed  him  relative  to  the  party 
of  United  States  ofiicials  that  had  just  passed 
his  dwelling.  "  Did  you  know  that  fine-look- 
ing officer  who  rode  in  front  of  the  party  ?  "  I 
asked. 

"O  yes,"  he  replied;  "that  was  Eugene 
Dudevant." 

AVhen  my  host  uttered  the  name  of  the  of- 
ficer the  color  rose  into  Louise's  face.     Why 


54  The  Girl  in  Checks. 

should  her  cheeks  assume  a  crimson  hue  at  the 
mention  of  the  name  of  a  United  States  rev- 
enue official?  Had  he  wronged  her  in  any 
way,  or  Avas  he  any  thing  to  her?  Surely  I 
thought  that  all  the  mysteries  that  would  ever 
confront  me  were  destined  to  be  crowded  into 
my  short  stay  at  Tom  Thaxton's.  My  host 
kept  on,  however,  ignorant  of  the  reverie  into 
which  Louise's  crimson  face  had  plunged  me. 

"  He's  a  wild  one,  too — no  more  af eard  of 
bullets  than  I  am  of  Betsy.  But  they  always 
leave  these  parts  like  a  greased  streak  of  light- 
nin',  when  they  have  made  a  raid,  beca'se  it 
wouldn't  be  safe  for  'em  to  stay.  Listen  at 
them  horns!  There'll  be  blood  shed,  I'm 
afeard." 

The  range  of  mountains  round  about  us 
seemed  to  be  alive  with  hunters,  who  blew  one 
prolonged  blast.  I  shall  never  forget  the  im- 
pression that  the  sound  of  those  horns  made 
upon  me  as  it  echoed  and  reverberated  through 
the  coves  and  over  the  lofty  peaks  of  those 
towering  crags.  *'  What  does  it  mean?  "  I  con- 
vulsively asked. 


Some  Amusing  Experiences.  55 

"  It's  the  people  a-givin'  warnin'  that  there's 
been  a  raid,"  answered  my  host. 

Ah!  I  understood.  Sound  travels  faster 
than  horsemen.  It  was  a  call  to  the  rescue. 
A  few  minutes  later  we  heard  in  the  distance 
rapid  firing.  It  was  down  the  valley,  in  the 
direction  the  little  company  of  officers  had 
gone. 

"  I  told  you  somebody  was  goin'  to  be  hurt," 
ejaculated  my  host.  "  Some  one  will  be  killed 
thess  as  shoar  as  Betsy's  my  boss." 

TThen  the  gunshots  ceased  there  also  died 
away  the  last  lingering  echoes  of  the  blast  of 
a  dozen  hunters'  horns.  There  was  again  a 
perfect  calm,  broken  only  by  Tom  Thaxton's 
tongue. 

"  Well,  some  folks  'lows  there  han't  no  here- 
after, but  it  Stan's  to  reason  in  my  mind  that 
there'll  have  to  be  a  hereafter  to  straighten 
out  all  the  crooked  things  that  turn  up  down 
here.  Just  beca'se  folks  won't  do  right  all  this 
breakin'  o'  the  Sabbath  and  sufi'erin'  is  brought 
on;  yes,  sir,  the  Scriptur'  is  mighty  true  when 
it  says:  *The  way  of  the  transgressor  is  hard.' 


56  The  Girl  in  Checks. 

An'  it  Stan's  to  reason,  accordin'  to  that  Script- 
ur',  that  if  we  do  right,  our  way  an't  goin'  to 
be  hard.  Folks  bring  most  of  their  trouble  on 
theirselves." 

Such,  in  part,  were  Tom  Thaxton's  com- 
ments on  the  occurrence  that  had  evidently 
thrilled  the  entire  community  with  great  ex- 
citement. But  that  occurrence,  sad  as  it  proved 
to  be,  nor  any  thing  else  seemed  destined  to 
break  away  the  clouds  of  mystery  that  had 
enveloped  that  humble  cabin.  "  Well,  let  the 
dead  bury  their  dead,"  said  he,  "tan't  no  bus- 
iness of  oifr7i  to  be  lookin'  after  violators  o'  the 
Sabbath,  an'  the  laws  o'  the  land,  too.  We 
must  be  a-ridin'  toward  the  '  Flat.'  " 

Our  little  company  of  four  were  soon  in  the 
saddle,  and  the  mysterious  little  cabin  was 
robbed  for  awhile  of  its  inmates,  but  so  far  it 
had  yielded  up  .none  of  the  mysteries  that  en- 
shrouded it  like  a  thick  cloud. 


©f^APT'^^l^  ^' 


FLAT  ROCK  CHURCH  AND  THE  CONGREGATION. 

AS  we  rode  away  from  the  little  cabin 
perched  upon  the  mountain-side  I  cher- 
ished the  hope  that  either  on  our  way  to  the 
Flat,  as  the  j)eople  called  it,  or  at  the  church 
itself,  something  would  occur  or  be  said  which 
would  reveal,  in  some  measure  at  least,  the 
cause  of  the  mysterious  existence  of  Louise 
Thaxton.  But  alas!  I  was  disappointed.  The 
problem  was  not  solved,  but  became  more 
problematic. 

The  little  log  meeting-house  had  taken  its 
name  from  a  large,  flat  rock,  which  covered  an 
area  of  at  least  one  acre.  The  surface  of  the 
rock  was  about  one  foot  above  the  level  of  the 
ground,  and  was  remarkably  oven.  The  north- 
east corner  of  the  crude  building  rested  upon 
this  rock,  and  while  the  other  three  corners 
were  supi^orted  by  blocks  of  undressed  stone, 

it  was  evident  that  these  crude  j^illars  rested 

(57) 


58  The  Girl  in  Checks. 

upon  the  same  large  flat  rock,  the  earth  that 
hid  it  from  view  being  only  a  few  inches  in 
depth.  So  this  little  mountain  chapel  was  in 
reality  a  "house  founded  upon  a  rock,"  and 
such  was  the  first  impression  that  came  to  one 
the  moment  he  beheld  it.  The  building  was 
constructed  of  round  logs.  Its  dimensions 
were  about  eighteen  by  twenty  feet.  The 
crevices  between  the  logs  amply  ventilated  the 
building.  The  seats  were  made  of  split  chest- 
nut slabs,  into  which  holes  had  been  bored  and 
legs  inserted.  These  rough  stools  were  back- 
less. The  building  was  not  ceiled,  and  as  for 
ctoves,  they  were  an  unknown  article  in  that 
reigon.  A  blazing  fire,  however,  of  pine  logs 
had  been  kindled  in  the  yard.  Such  is  a  true 
picture  of  Flat  Eock  Church. 

The  congregation  was  large.  Evidently  the 
"new  preacher"  had  not  drawn  together  this 
immense  crowd.  There  was  another  cause. 
Their  community  had  been  invaded  by  reve- 
nue officers,  two  of  their  citizens  had  been  ar- 
rested, shooting  had  been  heard,  somebody 
may  have  been  killed,  and  the  church  was  the 


Flat  Rock  Church  and  the  Congregation.    59 

best  place  to  get  all  the  news  from  every  quar- 
ter; therefore  the  entire  community  came  to- 
gether at  the  church.  The  congregation  was 
in  a  high  state  of  excitement. 

Knots  of  men  had  come  together  in  the  sun- 
ny j)laces  all  over  the  church-yard.  Their 
blue  jeans  home-spun  suits,  cut,  I  almost  af- 
firmed, in  ancient  and  modern  styles,  at  least 
approximating  every  style  and  rivaling  no  one 
of  them,  and  set  with  all  kinds  of  buttons, 
from  the  bright  bronze  military  button  that 
had  been  worn  by  some  soldier  through  the 
last  great  civil  struggle  between  the  States 
down  to  the  large,  old-fashioned  and  now  quite 
obsolete  agate  button  that  had  evidently  be- 
longed to  Revolutionary  sires,  and  which  had 
been  carefully  preserved,  not  as  relics,  but 
purely  from  a  spirit  of  economy,  and  handed 
down  from  fathei*  to  son  through  all  those  in- 
tervening years. 

Rollicking  maidens,  arm  in  arm,  continually 
paced  the  pathway  that  led  from  the  church  to 
the  spring.  Dresses  of  all  shades  and  various 
styles  adorned  their  persons,  as  to  shade,  par- 


60  The  Girl  iu  Checks. 

ticularly  red,  green,  and  yellow.  Each  maid 
was,  apparently,  either  listening  to  or  pouring 
some  important  secret  into  the  ears  of  her 
comi)anion. 

The  matronly  women  had  gathered  into  a 
group  near  the  fire  of  pine-logs,  and,  with 
pipes  in  full  blast,  and  true  to  their  sex,  they 
all  talked  at  the  same  time — a  feat,  by  the  way, 
which  the  sterner  sex  has  never  been  able  to 
accomplish,  owing  to  his  inability  to  do  two 
things  at  the  same  time.  Every  one  of  them 
seemed  to  be  intensely  interested  in  one  lead- 
ing theme.  Doubtless  it  was  the  capture  by 
the  revenue  force  of  the  illicit  distillery,  and 
the  correlations  of  that  fact. 

The  young  men  had  gathered  together  in 
the  sunshine  upon  the  surface  of  the  large,  flat 
rock.  They  were  listening  with  great  interest 
to  one  of  their  number,  who  seemed  all  the 
while  to  have  the  undisputed  right  of  the  floor, 
or  rather  of  the  rock.  A  bit  of  flaming  red 
ribbon  w'as  tied  in  the  button-hole  of  his  blue 
jeans  coat,  a  sprig  of  cedar,  plume-like,  was 
tucked  under  his  hat-band,  while  he  gestic- 


Flat  Rock  Church  and  the  Congregation.    6'1 

iilated  with  a  fantastically  carved  walking- 
cane.  He  was  evidently  a  leading  character 
among  the  young  hopefuls  of  Flat  Kock  com- 
munity. 

A  dozen  very  old  men  had  separated  them- 
selves from  the  groups  which  I  have  men- 
tioned, and  were  sitting  with  bowed  heads 
upon  the  rail  pens  that  were  built  over  the 
graves  of  the  departed.  They  seemed  to  be 
wholly  unconcerned  about  the  great  subject 
that  appeared  to  be  claiming  the  attention  of 
everybody  else.  They  were  perhaps  thinking 
and  speaking  to  each  other  in  undertones  of 
the  vanities  of  the  present  age,  of  the  excel- 
lences of  by-gone  days,  and,  perhaps,  as  aged 
people  are  wont  to  do,  of  the  last  resting-place 
that  awaited  their  frail  and  aged  bodies  some- 
where near  the  spot  where  they  then-  sat. 

Such  is  a  bird's-eye  view  of  the  state  of  the 
congregation  at  the  Flat  when  we  reached  that 
point.  Surely  something  more  than  we  knew 
of  had  happened,  for  the  excitement  seemed 
to  be  intense.  We  had  alighted  and  made  fast 
our  steeds  when  we  were  approached  by  a  man 


62  TJie  Girl  in  Checks. 

who  came  from  one  of  the  little  knots  of  indi- 
viduals that  had  gathered  in  the  church-yard, 
and  who  informed  us  that  Eugene  Dudevant 
had  been  killed  that  morning  while  he  was 
conveying  his  two  piisoners  to  the  county  jail. 
I  looked  into  the  face  of  Louise.  She  stood 
transfixed  to  the  spot,  and  was  as  pale  as  de::th; 
but  by  a  powerful  effort  of  the  will  she  re- 
strained her  feelings  and  moved  away  toward 
the  church,  while  Tom  Thaxton  ejaculated 
what  seemed  to  be  his  favorite  expression: 
"Well,  the  Scriptur'  says:  'The  way  of  the 
transgressor  is  hard.' " 

It  was  eleven  o'clock,  the  hour  for  preach- 
ing. The  congregation  was  nervous  and  ex- 
cited. The  preacher  was  in  the  unmerciful 
meshes  of  bewilderment,  and  I  doubt  verv 
much,  as  well  as  these  mountaineers  like  to 
discuss  the  merits  of  a  sermon,  if  the  sermon 
of  that  day  ever  went  through  the  mill  of  crude 
disputation.  It  was  a  relief  to  me  when  I 
again  threw  myself  into  the  saddle  and  rode  a 
dozen  miles  away,  and  farther  into  the  im- 
mense piles  of  earth  and  rock  that  constitute 


Flat  Bock  Church  and  the  Co)ifjrefjation.    Go 

the  far-famed  Blue  Eidge  Mountains,  to  meet 
my  afternoon  appointment  at  Chestnut  Plains. 
I  preached  to  the  little  assembly  that  after- 
noon as  best  I  could,  and  then  rode  away  to 
the  county  seat,  where  I  slept  soundly,  and 
dreamed  over  the  "  Mystery  of  the  Mountain 
Cabin"  and  its  mj^sterious  inmate,  the  "Girl 
in  Checks." 


©HAFT£i^  Ui. 


EUGENE  DUDEVANT. 

ISAAY  Eugene  Dndevant  but  once.  There 
was  something  attractive  about  his  person. 
He  was  riding  with  all  the  grace  and  exqui- 
site horsemanship  of  a  gallant  cavalier.  But 
alas!  it  was  a  ride  into  the  very  jaws  of  death. 
His  office  was  an  unpopular'  one.  These 
mountaineers  looked  upon  distilling  as  an  in- 
alienable right,  or  at  least  many  of  them  did. 
It  was  the  quickest  and  easiest  way  by  which 
they  corJd  turn  the  scanty  ]3roduce  of  their 
soil  into  money.  They  could  not  understand 
why  the  Government  sought  to  monopolize,  in 
a  degree,  the  whisky  trade  and  its  manufact- 
ure. If  it  was  just  and  legal,  in  the  ethical 
sense  of  these  terms,  for  the  Government  to 
grant  a  right,  backed  and  supported  by  its 
power,  in  consideration  of  a  stipulated  sum  of 
money  paid  to  it,  to  certain  individuals  to  pro- 
duce and  sell  whisky,  did  not  that  very  act 
(64) 


Euge)ie  Diidevcoif.  65 

upon  the  part  of  the  Government  go  to  estab- 
lish that  there  was  a  positive  necessity  for  the 
production  of  spirits.  If  such  were  the  case, 
did  the  Government  have  the  right  to  dis- 
criminate against  any  section  of  the  countr}^, 
so  far  as  the  production  of  whisky  was  in- 
volved? 

These  mountaineers  therefore  claimed  that 
the  license  system  discriminated,  virtually, 
against  them,  because,  they  maintained,  they 
were  poor  and  isolated  and  could  not,  there- 
fore, meet  the  requirements  of  the  Govern- 
ment. Furthermore,  the}^  argued  that  if  whis- 
ky was  a  necessity  to  men,  it  was  as  much  so  to 
them  as  to  others ;  and  therefore  they  claimed, 
since  it  was  impossible  for  them  to  meet  the 
demands  of  the  Government  in  this  matter,  or 
to  procure  the  article  otherwise  than  by  man- 
ufacture, it  was  their  inalienable  right  to 
make  whisky  in  spite  of  the  Government. 
Secondly,  they  claimed  that,  if  whisky  was 
not  a  necessity,  and  if  its  production  was  a 
wrong  and  a  misdemeanor  which  ought  to  be 
punished  and  suppressed  by  the  laws  of  the 


(56  The  Girl  in  Checks. 

land,  then  the  payment  o£  license  could  not 
possibly  make  it  a  less  misdemeanor  or  ob- 
literate its  criminality ;  "  therefore,"  they 
said,  "we  have  as  mnch  right,  intrinsically 
speaking,  to  do  wrong  as  has  the  Govern- 
ment." 

And,  indeed,  is  not  the  Government  as  deep 
in  the  scale  of  criminality  as  any  illicit  distil- 
lery hid  away  in  the  dark  coves  of  the  Blue 
Eidge  Mountains?  Is  not  the  sale  of  license 
on  the  part  of  the  Government  a  virtual  ad- 
mission of  the  crime  of  making  and  selling  in- 
toxicants? And  is  not  the  principle  involved 
precisely  the  same  as  that  abominable  usage 
and  doctrine  of  Roman  Catholicism  whereby 
that  priest-ridden  Church  sells  her  indul- 
gences ? 

The  writer  has  often  sat  by  the  firesides  of 
these  plain  mountaineers,  and  listened  to  these 
arguments.  Who  will  say  that  they  are  not 
logical,  and  based  upon  the  strictest  principles 
of  justice?  How  can  the  Government  itself 
answer  these  arguments,  save  by  the  fiat  of  its 
laws  ?   Indeed,  there  is  but  one  answer  to  their 


Eugene  Dudevant.  67 

crude  but  logical  appeals,  and  that  is  univer- 
sal prohibition;  for  no  Government  has  a 
right  to  do,  either  directly  or  indirectly,  that 
which  it  prevents  its  subjects  from  doing. 
For  what  indeed  would  the  principle  upon 
which  the  license  system  is  based  lead  to,  were 
it  applied  to  morals  and  ethics  generally  ? 

I  have  introduced  these  thoughts  here  to 
show  why  the  office  which  Eugene  Dudevant 
held  was  unpopular.  Its  insufferable  nature 
did  not  spring  so  much  from  incorrigible  dis- 
loyalty to  the  Government  on  the  part  of  the 
violators  as  from  the  injustice  which  they 
saw  in  the  laws  which  restrained  and  i^rohib- 
ited  them  from  doing  that  which  the  Govern- 
ment itself  did  indirectly  by  its  license  sys- 
tem. 

Eugene  Dudevant,  holding  his  commission 
from  the  Government,  rushed  into  the  midst 
of  these  towering  mountains,  sought  the  con- 
cealed distilleries  among  the  craggy  peaks, 
apprehended  the  transgressors,  and  they  killed 
him. 

Physically  speaking,  he  was  a  noble  speci- 


G8  TJie  Girl  in  Checks. 

men  of  Southern  manhood  —  tall,  handsome, 
genteel-looking — a  veritable  Carolinian  in  ev- 
ery aspect  of  his  bearing. 

It  was  doubly  sad  that  so  noble-looking  a 
man  should  have  been  slaughtered  in  so  igno- 
minious a  manner.  He  was  shot  down  with- 
out a  moment's  warning.  The  shrill,  pro- 
longed blast  of  a  dozen  horns,  and  then  came 
the  bullet  from  the  gun  of  the  assassin,  as  he 
lay  concealed  in  the  bush  by  the  road-side. 
How  in  its  unsuspected  phase  like  the  last 
trump  that  shall  sound  the  death-knell  of  time! 
Without  a  moment  even  for  a  last  prayer  he 
was  called  away  from  earth.  The  charge  was 
well  aimed,  it  went  straight  to  the  heart,  and 
the  gallant  rider  reeled  from  his  saddle  a 
corpse. 

Though  he  had  for  several  vears  lived  a  lewd 
fellow  "of  the  baser  sort,"  he  was  not  a  plebe- 
ian. The  best  blood  of  the  State  coursed 
through  his  veins,  for  he  was  the  son  of  a 
wealthy,  aristocratic  rice  -  planter.  He  had 
been  reared  amid  the  most  exquisite  luxury 
that  wealth  could  afford.    He  was  educated  at 


Eugene  Diidevanf,  69 

tlie  best  schools  of  Euroi:)e,  and,  notwithstand- 
ing the  degraded  life  he  was  leading,  his  re- 
finement and  ch'fe  bearing  were  not  comx^letely 
annihilated.  But  alas!  as  is  too  often  the 
case,  one  all-important  element  had  been  ig- 
nored in  his  rearing — a  strict  attention  to  his 
moral  development. 

One  of  the  saddest  blots  npon  the  images  of 
the  history  of  the  death-struggles  of  the  "  Old 
South, "were  it  written,  would  be  the  downfall 
and  utter  ruin  of  many  of  Carolina's  noble 
sons,  whose  families,  x^rior  to  the  throes  of  re- 
construction, stood  pre-eminent  in  the  State, 
both  in  political  and  social  circles.  One  of 
the  foulest  blots  upon  the  pages  of  her  other- 
wise bright  escutcheon  is  not  that  of  the  in- 
stitution of  slavery  (for  that  the  South  has 
made  ample  defense),  but  the  great  fact  that 
among  certain  classes  position  and  wealth 
took  the  place,  to  a  great  degree,  of  morality 
and  religion  —  that  is,  the  tendency  of  ante 
helium  institutions  in  the  South  was  toward 
the  formation  of  castes  as  inflexible  and  iron- 
bound  as  those  of  heathen  India.     Men  were 


70  The  Girl  in  Checks. 

beginning  to  be  honored  because  they  were  of 
certain  distinguished  families,  and  not  because 
of  their  inherent  worth.  AVhen  the  reaction 
came  many  fell.  They  could  not  adjust  them- 
selves to  the  new  order  of  things,  and  there- 
fore only  the  fittest  of  them  survived  the  won- 
derful revolution. 

To  that  class  which  failed  to  stand  the  shock 
of  the  awful  disruption  Eugene  Dudevant  be- 
longed. In  all  his  training  he  failed  to  at- 
tain that  degree  of  moral  culture  and  worth 
necessary  to  support  him  in  the  trials  incident 
to  this  life,  to  guide  and  protect  him  amid  the 
throes,  shocks,  and  struggles  through  which 
his  native  State  was  called  to  pass. 

The  final  result  was  but  the  legitimate  effect 
of  a  cause  deeply  imbedded  in  the  very  atmos- 
phere of  his  boyhood  days.  Hence  the  proud 
patrician  dies  away  from  friends  and  home,  a 
martyr  to  no  cause,  but  a  devotee  at  the  shrine 
of  prodigality  and  sensualism.  The  bullet 
that  sent  him  to  his  long  home  came  from  a 
gun  in  the  hands  of  one  of  his  own  country- 
men and  a  plebeian. 


Euge}ie  Dudevant,  71 

Such  tlioiiglits  crowd  tliemselves  into  my 
mind  as  I  record  the  revelations  of  the  mount- 
ain cabin,  and  the  reader,  ere  he  completes 
these  pages,  will  adjudge  them  right. 

I  watched  the  casket  that  contained  Dude- 
vant's  manly  form,  as  the  pall-bearers,  a  lewd, 
debased  crowd  to  be  sure,  placed  it  upon  the 
train,  and  sent  it  to  the  old  homestead  in  the 
lower  part  of  the  State,  to  be  interred  in  the 
old  Dudevant  family  grave-yard. 

The  most  appropriate  epitaph,  were  sincer- 
ity and  truth  always  practiced  in  such  things, 
would  be  this  superscription  upon  the  tomb: 
"  The  Stroke  of  a  Father's  Hand." 


©]^/\f>'V^^  UII. 


BURIAL  OF  EUGENE  DUDEVANT,  AND  A  LOOK  INTO 
THE  OLD  HOMESTEAD. 

THE  writer  stood  at  tlie  window  of  his  room 
on  tlie  day  following  that  on  which 
Eugene  Dndevant  was  killed,  and  beheld  the 
corpse  pass  throngh  the  street  of  the  little  vil- 
lage to  the  depot,  whence  it  was  sent  to  the 
old  family  burying-ground  for  interment.  No 
train  of  sorrowing  relatives  and  friends  fol- 
lowed the  corpse.  It  was  a  sad  scene  on 
that  account.  But  follow  that  body  to  its 
destination,  to  that  place  of  sepulture  which 
already  bristles  with  artistically  carved  shafts 
and  columns  that  mark  the  resting-places  of 
six  generations  of  the  Dudevants ;  walk  among 
the  silent  tombs,  read  the  epitaphs,  and  learn 
how  honorable  in  State  and  in  society  many 
of  these  were  who  now  sleep  in  the  dust; 
mark  the  lavish  expenditure  of  means  on  this 

one  silent  spot;  walk  among  the  stately  mag- 
(72) 


Burial  of  Eugene  Dudecanf.  73 

nolias  and  tlie  beautiful  evergreens;  mark  the 
steel  railings  inclosing  the  sacred  spot,  and 
covered  with  the  thorn-armored  hedge-rose — 
and  these  things  will  speak  in  words  that  you 
cannot  misinterpret,  telling  you  eloquently 
that  the  Dudevants  once  revered  the  memory 
of  their  dead  and  spared  no  expense  to  embel- 
lish and  beautify  their  last  resting-place.  But 
see  that  little  party  of  revenue  officials  as  they 
lower  their  comrade  into  the  grave.  There  is 
not  a  tear-stained  cheek  there.  Their  faces 
are  flushed,  but  not  from  grief.  They  hastily 
let  the  corpse  down  into  the  grave,  and  as 
hastily  fill  it  up,  and  then  they  drive  two 
stakes  into  the  ground,  one  to  mark  the  foot 
and  the  other  the  head  of  the  grave.  There 
is  no  minister  present  to  utter  the  solemn 
committal,  "dust  to  dust,  ashes  to  ashes,  earth 
to  earth."  There  is  no  "word  of  comfort,"  no 
hjmm  floating  out  in  soft,  measured  tones  uj^on 
the  still  evening  air.  Shall  I  characterize  it 
as  worse  than  a  heathen  burial?  Even  they 
reverence  their  gods  at  such  times.  The  work 
is  finished,  and  these  lewd  fellows,   as  they 


74  The  Girl  in  Checks. 

stand  about  the  grave,  pass  around  the  de- 
canter of  captured  contraband  whisky,  and 
drink  to  the  memory  of  their  departed  col- 
league. Alas  for  depraved  humanity!  The 
devil  officiates  at  a  burying.  The  scene  is 
sickening;  turn  away  from  it,  and  walk  out  of 
this  richly  decorated  inclosure,  this  sacred 
spot  in  which  the  arch-fiend  now  holds  high 
carnival  among  the  base  associates  of  the 
murdered  man,  and  look  over  the  broad  acres 
of  the  Dudevant  homestead,  with  its  extensive 
rice-fields  and  unrivaled  cotton-lands,  dotted 
over  with  little  villages  of  well-painted,  cozy 
little  cottages,  the  homes  of  the  slaves  who 
once  tilled  the  broad  fields  before  you.  But 
behold  how  the  destroyer  has  already  defaced 
these  fertile  fields.  Neglect  and  decay  is  writ- 
ten on  every  object. 

Turn  from  this  fascinating  scene,  even  so 
while  under  the  merciless  hand  of  decay,  and 
wend  your  way  up  the  long  avenue  of  live-oaks 
to  the  old  Dudevant  homestead  dwelling. 
Look  upon  its  superb  stateliness,  walk  up  the 
flight  of  marble  steps  and  pull  the  door-bell; 


Burial  of  Eugene  Dndevcoit.  75 

ask  Marm  Phyllis,  bowing  already  under  the 
weight  of  threescore  and  ten  years,  to  show 
yoii  through  the  interior  of  the  magnificent 
dwellino-.  Once  within  yon  are  enchanted 
and  enraptured.  Every  thing  is  truly  superb. 
Magnificent  and  richly  carved  furniture,  a 
rare  library  collected  at  great  expense  and  se- 
lected with  the  greatest  care.  Rare  works  of 
art  hang  from  the  frescoed  walls,  and  every 
thing  goes,  unmistakably,  to  show  that  wealth 
and  refinement  were  once  the  supreme  rulers 
of  this  home. 

As  you  look  upon  this  beautiful  home,  you  in- 
tuitively ask  yourself  this  question:  "  How  did 
Eugene  Dudevant  come  to  leave  all  this  mag- 
nificence and  grandeur,  for  it  was  his  home, 
and  die  a  violent  and  untimely  death  in  a 
mountain  cove  of  Western  South  Carolina,  a 
debased  revenue  officer  ?  " 

The  solution  of  the  problem  is  easy:  Louis 
Dudevant  had  but  two  children,  Eugene  and 
Estelle.  There  was  but  two  years'  difference 
in  their  ages,  and  Estelle  was  the  elder  of  the 
twain.     She  exerted  a  great  and  good  influ- 


76  The  Girl  in  Checks. 

ence  over  Eugene  as  tliey  were  growing  up. 
Every  care  and  sorrow  were  curtained  off  from 
tliem,  and  they  were  as  liappy  as  mortals  can 
well  be  in  this  world.  Eugene  was  attentive 
and  devoted  to  his  sister. 

If  "The  Oaks"  (for  that  was  the  name  by 
which  the  homestead  was  known  far  and  near ) 
was  a  pleasant  place,  it  was  made  so  by  these 
happy  children.  They  were  bred  to  aristoc- 
racy. They  were  taught  to  be  proud  of  their 
blood.  From  earliest  infancy  they  had  been 
led  to  believe  that  the  social  position  of  the 
Dudevant  family  for  ages  past,  as  well  as  their 
property,  differentiated  them  from  the  masses 
of  humanity.  Therefore  these  children  had 
gathered  around  them  as  their  associates  the 
wealthiest,  the  most  intelligent,  as  well  as  the 
most  refined  and  elite  people  that  the  old  Pal- 
metto State  could  afford.  "  The  Gaks  "  was 
universally  known  as  a  jolly  place.  Many  a 
satin-robed  belle's  slippered  feet  have,  with 
measured  step,  many  a  time  kept  pace  with  the 
sweet  cadences  of  the  mellow-toned  violin  in 
these  spacious  but  now  silent  halls.     Costliest 


Burial  of  Eugene  DudevanL  77 

wines  and  brandies  were  once  sipped  at  these 
boards  by  el'itest  belles  and  beans,  and  many  a 
time  produced  that  artificial  good  cheer  which 
once  made  these  frescoed  walls  echo  with  the 
merry  laughter  of  jolly  visitors. 

But  "  The  Oaks,"  after  all,  was  not  an  attract- 
ive i3lace  simply  because  nature  had  lavished 
upon  it  scenery  so  fascinating  and  resplend- 
ent. Neither  was  it  a  happy  home  because 
art  and  wealth  had  contributed  so  much  to  its 
beauty  and  magnificence.  All  of  these  things 
combined  did  not  make  the  place  home. 

The  majestic,  silently  sweeping  Pee  Dee  that 
almost  encircled  the  grand  old  building,  the 
far-famed  and  sweet-scented  magnolias,  the 
stately  live-oaks  draped  in  the  long,  weird- 
looking  moss  swaying  back  and  forth  in  the 
slightest  breeze,  and  the  magnificent  dwelling 
surrounded  by  the  little  villages  of  tenement 
houses,  orchards  of  semi-tropical  fruits  and 
gardens  of  ever-blooming  flowers,  made  "The 
Oaks  "  an  enchanting  spot,  just  as  there  are 
many  such  places  in  this  semi-tropical  clime. 

It  was  not  all  of  these  things  combined  that 


78  The  Girl  in  CJiecks. 

drew  to  "  The  Oaks  "  the  crowds  of  merry  visit- 
ors. Nor  did  these  things  make  home  a  pleas- 
ant place  for  Eugene  and  Estelle;  for  all  of 
these  things  yet  remain,  and  the  old  mansion 
is  as  silent  as  tiie  tomb.  No  merry  crowds  of 
visitors  have  crossed  its  threshold  in  twenty 
long  years. 

Homes  and  places,  to  make  them  attractive, 
mnst  have  souls,  and  the  souls  of  places  are 
as  easily  corrupted  as  are  those  of  men. 
Homes  die  like  men.  There  are  diseases  and 
calamities  just  as  fatal  to  them  as  they  are  to 
uSj  who  are  "so  wonderfully  and  fearfully 
made."  One  of  these  maladies,  so  fatal  in 
their  results,  had  fastened  its  deathly,  poison- 
ous fang  into  the  grand  old  mansion  at  "  The 
Oaks,"  and  the  once  merry  home  had  yielded 
up  the  ghost. 

Louis  Dudevant's  kind  and  sweet-spirited 
wife  died  long  years  ago,  but  the  gentle,  amia- 
ble Estelle  inherited  her  virtues  and  therefore 
filled  that  otherwise  irreparable  gap,  and  it 
was  home,  sweet  home  still  to  Eugene. 

Years  rolled  on,  and  smoothly  flowed  the 


Burial  of  Eugene  Dudevcint.  79 

current  of  liome  life.  But  there  came  at  last 
a  terrific  shock  that  caused  that  home  to  vi- 
brate from  center  to  circumference.  The 
chilly  hancT  of  death  was  laid  \\\)o\\  the  life  of 
that  home. 

Louis  Dudevant,  it  is  necessary  to  state, 
was  stern,  unyielding,  and  uncompromisingly 
proud.  In  a  fit  of  anger  he  had  virtually 
driven  his  only  daughter  from  her  paternal 
roof.  It  was  indeed  a  sad  stroke;  for  how 
can  home  exist  without  wife,  sister,  or  daugh- 
ter? Without  the  cheering  presence  of  these 
ministering  angels  home  must  die. 

After  this  sad  event,  vdiich  we  shall  explain 
in  its  i3roper  place,  stern  old  Louis  Dudevant 
and  Eugene  remained  at  the  old  homestead, 
but  alas !  all  of  its  attractions  were  gone.  The 
hand  of  death  was  daily  tightening  its  grip 
on  "The  Oaks,"  and  the  once  jolly  place  is 
doomed  erelong  to  lie  cold  in  death. 

O  the  dead  homes  that  live  only  in  the 
memory  of  their  once  happy  inmates!  Such 
homes  come  up  vividly  in  the  minds  of  many 
a  man  and  many  a  woman  who  have  j^assed 


80  The  Girl  in  Checks, 

the  meridian  of  life.  AVhere  now  are  tlie  hap- 
py homes  of  our  childhood's  innocent  years? 
They  live  with  many  of  ns  oidy  on  memory's 
page. 

But  the  death  of  the  home  at  "  The  Oaks  " 
was  sadder  than  usual,  because  it  was  a  mur- 
dered home.  Louis  Dudevant  killed  it.  That 
dark  day  when  Estelle  stepped  out  from  under 
the  shadow  of  the  stately  mansion,  under  the 
frown  of  her  own  father,  was  its  death-stroke. 

Ten  years  from  that  event  Louis  Dudevant 
had  been  laid  away  in  yonder  beautiful  ceme- 
tery to  await  the  final  judgment.  He  had 
witnessed  the  great  struggle  between  the 
States;  he  had,  in  common  with  other  South- 
erners, experienced  largely  its  bitter  results, 
and  just  as  the  black  clouds  of  civil  war  were 
being  swept  from  the  horizon,  he  had  fixed  all 
of  his  property  on  Eugene,  and  a  few  years 
afterward  went  the  way  of  all  the  world. 

It  is  almost  needless  to  say  that  "  The  Oaks  " 
was  no  longer  home  for  Eugene.  Ten  long 
years  he  had  been  haunted  by  the  former  as- 
sociations of  his  sw^eet-spirited  sister,  but  the^ 


Burial  of  Eugene  Dudevant,  81 

blood-poison  (can  I  call  the  proud,  aristocrat- 
ic spirit  which  had  been  bred  in  him  by  a  bet- 
ter name?)  which  had  taken  fast  hold  npon 
him,  together  with  the  bitter  feelings  he  had 
imbibed  from  intimate  association  with  his 
father  during  those  ten  years  that  they  had 
lived  alone  at  "  The  Oaks,"  had  caused  him 
to  heap  undying  curses  upon  the  head  of  that 
lovely,  unprotected  sister  who  had  once  made 
home  so  attractive.  The  reaction  of  his  bitter 
spirit  rebounded  upon  his  devoted  head  at  his 
father's  death.  He  became  restless,  he  longed 
for  some  power  to  break  off  from  his  bitter 
soul  the  tormenting  pangs  that  had  fastened 
themselves  thereto.  He  was  indeed  homeless 
with  all  the  possessions  that  had  been  heaped 
upon  him.  Here,  then,  is  the  solution  of  the 
problem.  This  explains  why  Eugene  Dude- 
vant fell  on  that  beautiful  Sabbath  morning 
in  a  mountain  cove,  pierced  to  the  heart  by  a 
bullet  from  an  assassin's  gun. 

Ah!  there  are  indeed  murderers  who  have 
accomplished   their   fearful  work   long  after 

their  bodies  have  been  committed  to  the  tomb. 
6 


82  The  Girl  in  Checks. 

Such  a  murderer  was  Louis  Dudevant,  a  post- 
humons  murderer,  and  that  too  of  his  own 
chidren. 

Plain  Tom  Thaxton  was  indeed  right  when 
he  said,  in  substance  at  least,  that  there  must 
be  a  court  hereafter  to  try  the  crimes  and 
avenge  outraged  justice  in  such  cases  as  these 
which  the  courts  of  this  world  can  never 
reach. 

These  facts  I  have  anticipated  in  this  frag- 
ment of  sectional  history,  for  the  sake  of  mak- 
ing plain  my  story.  The  dead,  as  we  shall  see 
by  and  by,  sometimes  speak,  and  in  so  doing 
unlock  many  mysteries. 


©HAPTEt^  Uiii. 


A  VISIT  INTO  THE  REGION  BEYOND. 

IT  is  a  fact  known  to  those  who  have  traveled 
in  the  Bhie  Kiclge  Mountains  that  the  peo- 
ple always  tell  yon  of  certain  customs  prevail- 
ing farther  up  in  the  mountain  wilds.  They 
frequently  speak  of  these  customs  as  "  the 
way  people  do  up  in  the  mountains,"  thus  mak- 
ing the  inexperienced  traveler  feel  that  he  is 
ever  approaching,  yet  never  able  to  reach,  that 
point  in  "  the  land  of  the  sky  "  where  he  may 
safely  say  that  he  has  been  into  the  mountains 
proper. 

My  afternoon  appointment  on  the  first  Sun- 
day in  February  was  at  Chestnut  Plains,  ten 
miles  from  the  Flat.  The  direction  from  the 
above-named  point  was  north-westerly,  thus 
carrying  me  still  farther  into  the  mountains. 
The  log  meeting-house  was  constructed  very 
much  on  the  same  plan  as  the  building  at  Flat 

Kock.     It  was  located  on  a  level  plateau  of 

(83) 


84  The  Girl  in  Checks. 

table-land,  covered  with  a  grove  of  cliestiint- 
oaks,  and  closely  shut  in  by  frowning  mount- 
ains on  every  side.  North-west  of  the  church 
the  scene  was  truly  inspiring.  Beginning 
about  fifty  yards  from  the  door  of  the  little 
building,  where  a  great  peak  arose  abruptly 
and  semi-perpendicularly  from  this  level  spot, 
there  mounted  up  peak  upon  peak,  mountain 
upon  mountain,  until  finally  the  tops  of  the 
distant  spurs  seemed  to  fade  away  from  mortal 
vision,  having  hid  their  heads  in  the  deej)  blue 
sky. 

I  reached  the  church  on  that  long  to  be  re- 
membered Sabbath  in  February,  1880,  awhile 
before  time  for  service,  and  I  stood  in  the 
church-yard  and  Avatched  the  assembling  of 
the  congregation.  Many  came  from  the  north- 
west, yet  from  the  level  plateau  upon  which 
the  church  was  built  that  portion  of  the  coun- 
try seemed  to  me  to  be  wholly  inaccessible. 
Looking  from  the  church-yard  uj^on  those  al- 
most cloud-crowned,  broken  masses  of  earth 
and  rock,  one  would  be  slow  to  believe  that  even 
the  agile  deer  could  make  its  way  over  those 


A  Visit  into  the  Begion  Beyond.  85 

stupendous  granite-girt  mountains.  But  every 
one  who  has  traveled  in  "  the  land  of  the  sky  " 
knows  that  mountains  are  like  the  troubles 
and  difficulties  that  loom  up  before  us  in  the 
rugged  jDathway  of  life — they  frequently  van- 
ish when  we  reach  them. 

This  towering,  broken,  precii:>itous  country 
was  inhabited.  There  were  many  winding, 
rocky  roads,  coiling  themselves,  Laocoon-like, 
about  those  huge  peaks. 

I  had  on  a  former  occasion  attentively  stood 
within  the  little  church-yard  at  this  place,  and, 
while  the  congregation  was  gathering,  had 
watched  with  much  interest  the  dehid  of  aged 
mountaineers,  tottering  along  with  staff  in 
palsied  hand,  as  well  as  flaxen-haired,  fair- 
skinned,  blue-eyed  young  men  and  buxom 
mountain  maidens,  mounted  upon  their  little 
wiry  ponies,  from  this  apparently  inaccessible 
quarter.  As  they  came  into  view  at  the  edge 
of  the  little  clearing  which  constituted  the 
hitching-fjyound,  the  impression  always  made 
upon  me  by  their  sudden  advent  was  that  of 
some  shagg}'  monster  disgorging  his  prey,  for 


86  The  Girl  in  Checks. 

they  seemed  to  come  out  of  the  solid  mass  of 
earth  itself.  The  high^yay  at  the  point  where 
they  came  into  sight  was  arched  over  by  the 
thick  foliage,  or  limbs  rather  of  the  giant 
oaks  on  either  side  of  the  road,  and  resembled 
the  mouth  of  a  great  cave  leading  down  into 
the  bowels  of  the  earth.  But  on  this  the  oc- 
casion of  my  second  visit  I  watched  the  dis- 
gorgement with  keener  interest  than  a^t  my  first, 
for  at  my  last  appointment  at  that  place  I  had 
promised  a  long,  lean,  cadaverous  -  looking 
mountaineer  that  on  my  return  to  that  point  I 
would  spend  the  night  with  him.  He  was  from 
that,  to  me,  hitherto  unexplored  region.  On 
the  occasion  of  my  first  visit  I  had  been  at- 
tracted by  the  awkward  and  ridiculous  manner 
of  his  advent  from  the  mouth  of  this  imagina- 
ry monster.  There  was  something  truly  ludi- 
crous about  it.  The  pony  which  he  rode  was 
small.  It  moved  alons:  with  a  kind  of  douUe 
shuffle  step,  and  seemed  rather  to  twist  itself 
along  than  to  walk  with  that  free  and  easy 
motion  common  to  the  horse.  All  of  its  mo- 
tive power  seemed  to  be  pent  up  in  its  shaggy 


A  Visit  info  the  Begion  Beyond.  87 

little  tail,  wliicli  was  never  at  rest.  Its  spiral 
motion  seemed  to  act  as  a  propelling  force 
npon  the  beast's  body.  The  feet  of  the  rider 
were  only  a  few  inches  from  the  ground.  The 
picture  produced  was  that  of  a  large  boy  rid- 
ing a  goat.  The  rider  always  carried  a  regu- 
lar undertaker's  look  on  his  face.  This  solemn 
demeanor  and  correspondingly  austere  and 
sorrowful  deportment  observable  in  every 
moveuient  and  look  of  this  denizen  of  the  hills 
m.ade  a  rich  setting  to  the  scene  which  I  am 
trying  to  describe.  As  the  pony  moved  for- 
ward the  rider  seemed  to  proceed  one  side  at  a 
time.  One  side  went  forward  with  a  quick,  spas- 
modic jerk,  and  came  to  a  complete  stop;  when 
another  spiral  motion  of  the  pony's  tail  im- 
parted the  necessary  force,  and  the  other  side 
was  likewise  carried  forward  to  its  stopj^ing- 
place.  In  this  amusing  manner  the  pony  and 
its  rider  made  remarkable  speed.  The  reader 
can  readily  imagine  what  a  ridiculous  picture 
all  of  these  things  combined  produced. 

As  I  stood  watching  the  egress  of  these  den- 
izens of  the  "  everlasting  hills  "  on  that  mem- 


88  The  Girl  in  Checks. 

orable  afternoon  my  eyes  at  last  caught  sight 
of  my  promised  host.  The  propeller  had  lost 
none  of  its  activity  since  I  beheld  the  twain  at 
my  last  visit,  but  the  undertaker' s  look  had  ap- 
parently grown  a  shade  sadder,  which  perhaps 
was  the  natural  outgrowth  of  the  thovight  that 
a  preacher  would  soon  be  a  guest  at  his  se- 
cluded mountain  home. 

So  I  would  indeed  have  the  pleasure  and 
privilege  of  traversing  the  regions  beyond.  I 
confess  to  no  little  degree  of  excitement  and 
curious  expectancy  at  the  thought  of  being 
swallowed  up  by  the  frowning  mountains, 
which  I  have  already  described.       ^^ 

The  sermon  was  concluded,  and  we  took  the 
road  leading  to  the  home  of  my  host.  It  was 
to  me  a  long,  lonesome  ride,  notwithstanding 
the  scenery  w^as  magnificently  grand,  frequent- 
ly challenging  all  efPort  at  description.  We 
w^ound  around  mountains,  crossed  over  lofty 
spurs,  descended  into  dark  ravines,  and  trav- 
ersed beautiful  valleys;  yet  I  felt  depressed 
during  the  entire  journey.  This  feeling  of  de- 
pression may  have  arisen  from  several  causes 


A  Visit  into  the  Eeyion  Beyond.  89 

• — tlie  reaction  of  the  nervous  system  after 
preaching;  the  warm,  hazy,  unseasonable 
weather  for  February;  the  sad  visage  and  dif- 
fidence of  my  comj^anion;  oi-the  thought  that 
possibly  I  was  being  siralloired  by  the  imag- 
inary monster  which  I  had  pictured  to  myself 
as  disgorging  its  prey  at  the  little  chapel. 
Any  one  of  these  causes,  or  all  of  them  com- 
bined, may  have  produced  the  melancholy 
feelings  that  depressed  my  soul  during  that 
long,  tedious  journey. 

But  these  gloomy  spirits  were  destined  to 
an  early  grave.     We   at   last   reined   up  our 
steeds  in  front  of  Abe  Grimshaw's  house — for 
this  was  the  name  of  my  host — and  the  tidy 
and   inviting  appearance  of  things  was  evi- 
dence that  this  would  be  a  pleasant  place  to 
rest,  and  such  I  found  it  to  be  by  many  actual 
experiences.     The  house  was  a  double  cabin, 
overgrown  vrith  vines.     The  large  logs  from 
which  it  was  constructed,  where  exposed  on 
the  outside  of  the  building,  were  covered  with 
moss,  indicating  that  it  was  a  very  old  build- 
ing.    The  present  occuj^ant  had  inherited  it 


90  The  Old  in  Checks, 

from  his  father,  who  built  it  while  the  wigv 
warns  of  the  Cherokees  dotted  the  valleys  of 
the  Eastatoe  and  Oolenoi,  and  the  red  man 
sought  undisturbed  his  game  upon  the  beau- 
tiful banks  of  the  Keeowee.  It  nestled  down 
in  one  of  those  beautiful  coves  so  frequently 
met  with  by  the  traveler  who  dares  to  traverse 
the  far-famed  Blue  Eidge.  It  seemed  to  be 
endeavoring  to  hide  itself  away  from  the  rest 
of  the  world,  and  verily  it  had  succeeded.  For 
quite  a  century  the  old  building  had  been 
hemmed  in  by  the  lofty  spurs  of  the  Blue 
Hiclge.  The  busy  world  was  unconscious  of 
its  existence,  and  the  inmates  of  that  lonely 
home  had  known  little  during  all  that  space  of 
time  of  the  affairs  of  the  world,  or  even  of  the 
State  in  which  their  home  was  located. 

Primitive  customs,  primitive  furnitui^e, 
primitive  everij  fJihir/,  prevailed  here.  There 
upon  the  bare  walls  hung  the  old-fashioned 
dinner-horn  that  had  summoned  a  past  as  well 
as  a  present  generation  to  many  an  old-fash- 
ioned dinner.  Upon  the  antlers  of  a  buck 
hung  the  old-time  fltjit  and  steel  rifle  that  had 


A  Vii>(t  into  the  lie(jio)i  Beijo)id.  91 

served  perhaps  four  or  five  generations.  It 
was  brouglit  from  the  Highlands  of  Scotland 
by  an  ancestor  of  the  j)resent  occupant  of  this 
secluded  home.  Every  thing  wore  an  air  of 
antiquity,  even  to  the  pewter  basin  in  whi-cli 
the  family  bathed  their  hands  and  faces. 
Amid  such  scenes  as  these  my  melancholy 
spirits  fled  away,  and  I  felt  as  though  I  had 
been  transported  to  one  of  the  mediseval 
homes  of  the  Highlands  of  Scotland. 

Dinner  was  announced.  The  crude  earth- 
enware, the  wooden  spoons  and  bowls,  and  the 
large  gourd  that  contained  the  milk  and  which 
took  the  place  of  a  pitcher,  together  with 
many  such  things,  pointed  to  an  age  that  has 
long  since  passed  away. 

Such  was  the  home  of  Abe  Grimshaw.  To 
one  reared  out  from  under  the  shadow  of  these 
mountains  such  articles  of  furniture  were  rare 
indeed,  and  spoke  eloquently  of 

The  days  of  auld  lang  syne. 

There  are  many  such  homes  in  "the  land  of 
the  sky,"  where  the  grating  noise  of  cards 
that  comb  the  fleece  of  the  mountain  sheep 


92  The  Girl  in  Checks. 

into  rolls  for  tlie  spinner's  liand  may  yet  greet 
the  ear;  where  the  lonesome  hum  of  the  spin- 
ning-wheel of  long  ago  and  the  dull  thump, 
thump,  of  the  massive  loom  of  our  great- 
grandmothers  are  still  heard. 

What  interest  could  we  justly  expect  these 
isolated  mountaineers  to  take  in  any  of  the 
great  national  issues  of  the  day?  It  makes 
very  little  difference  with  them  as  to  who  is 
President  of  the  United  States,  or  even  as  to 
who  is  Governor  of  their  own  State.  The 
great  phosphate  interests,  so  long  a  bone  of 
contention  in  their  native  State,  as  well  as  the 
contest  between  State  and  denominational 
schools;  the  historic  and  eventful  days  of 
1876,  together  with  all  the  throes  incident  to 
the  new  birth  of  an  oppressed  and  once  down- 
trodden State — all  these  things  combined  have 
no  charms  for  them.  They  are  an  independent 
class  of  citizens,  as  incapable  of  grasping  great 
national  issues,  of  recognizing  the  justice  and 
equity  of  State  or  United  States  laws  when 
conflicting  with  what  thej^  conceive  to  be  their 
inalienable  rights,  of  aj^i^reciating  the  general 


A  Visit  into  the  Beg  ion  Beyond,  93 

benefit  of  a  common  government,  as  their  soil 
is  of  producing  the  fleecy  staple  of  their  na- 
tive State. 

So  mnch  I  learned  during  my  visit  to  Abe 
Grimshaw's.  When  our  conversation,  by  mer- 
est accident,  turned  upon  the  great  struggle  be- 
tween the  States  my  sad-faced  host  remarked: 
"We  uns  never  font  on  nary  side;  'cause 
'twa'n't  nothin'  to  us.  But  it  seemed  like  they 
wer'  'termined  to  press  us  in  anyhow.  Them 
'  light  duty  men '  done  a  sight  o'  devilment  in 
thes  eparts.  They  wer'  afeard  to  fight  the'r- 
selves,  and  hung  around  here  to  arrest  us. 
There  wer'  a  whole  ridgement  of  'em  camped 
over  at  Tunnel  Hill,  an'  they  s' arched  this 
country  from  Dan  to  Beersheba,  pretendin'  to 
be  huntin'  deserters ;  an'  they  cotcli  lots  of  our 
boys  an'  sent  'em  off.  Some  of  'em  had  been, 
an'  had  quit  an'  come  home,  'cause  'twa'n't  no 
war  of  the'rn;  an'  some  of  'em  never  had  been, 
'cause  they  didn't  see  no  use  of  fightin'  that-a- 
way.  Let  them  that  had  the  niggers  fight. 
But  them  '  light  duty  men '  'lowed  that  no- 
body didn't  have  no  right   to  quit  an'  come 


9-i  The  Girl  in  Checks. 

home.  It  was  always  powerful  strange  to  me 
that  a  man  couldn't  quit  fightin'  when  he 
wanted  to.  If  a  man  wanted  to  qiiit  an'  come 
home  for  to  see  his  wife,  'twa'n't  none  o'  their 
business ;  seemed  monstrous  mysterf yin'  to  me 
that  a  man  couldn't  take  a  little  blowin'-spell 
when  he  got  outen  wind  a-fightin'  them  yan- 
kees.  But  thev  'lowed  'twas  their  business. 
They  never  j)ut  their  han's  on  me,  shoar's  I'm 
named  Abe.  What  powder  I  had  to  burn  [an' 
powder  got  mighty  sca'ce]  I  was  goin'  to  burn 
it  agin  the  deer,  and  not  agin  my  f  ellow-creet- 
ur.  But  they  got  Sam  Houston.  Sam  had 
been  off,  an'  had  come  back.  They  tuck  an' 
tied  him,  an'  dragged  him  off  in  the  night,  an' 
that  was  the  las'  we  ev^er  hearn  of  poor  Sam 
Houston.  Poor  Miss  Houston  was  so  dis- 
tressed about  it  that  the  next  mornin'  after 
they  tuck  Sam  she  tuck  her  little  baby  gal, 
'Cinda,  thess  a  year  ole,  an'  followed  on  after 
'em,  barefooted  an'  bareheaded.  The  poor 
creetar  went  as  fur  as  Columbia,  but  when 
she  got  there  she  wer'  plum  beyant  herself, 
and  they  tuck  her  up  an'  put  her  in  the  'sylum, 


A  Visit  info  the  Region  Beyond.  95 

an'  she  died  there;  an'  Sam  was  shot  fur  de- 
sertin,'  I  reckon — leastwise  we  han't  hearn 
nothin'  frum  him  sense.  An'  'Cinda — all  the 
chile  they  had — was  left  alone  an'  by  herself 
in  that  big  city.  But  some  good  'oman  tuck 
her  an'  brung  her  up  to  a  smart-sized  gal;  but 
when  'Cinda  got  big  ernough  to  think  for  her- 
self she  come  back  to  these  parts,  an'  she  is 
one  'o  the  best  'o  'omankind.  Poor  creetur! 
every  time  I  see  her  I  think  of  Miss  Houston's 
face,  as  she  followed  after  them  good -fur - 
nuthin'  'light  duty  men'  that  tuck  an'  tied 
Sam  an'  dragged  him  off  the  same  as  if  he  were 
some  wild  varmint." 

Such,  in  part,  was  Abe  Grimshaw's  conver- 
sation. He  had  spoken  but  few  words  prior 
to  this  volume  of  sectional  history,  and  I  had 
come  to  the  conclusion  that  my  host  was  one 
of  those  say-nothing  characters  so  often  en- 
countered evervwhere.  But  all  men,  I  have 
observed,  will  talk,  and  talk  fluently,  when  you 
draw  them  out  along  the  line  they  are  accus- 
tomed to  think.  Abe  Grimshaw  had  doubtless 
thought  much  of  the  sad  experiences  through 


96  The  Girl  in  Checks. 

whicli  liis  secluded  community  had  passed 
during-  the  great  civil  struggle  that  shook  our 
entire  country  from  center  to  circumference. 
He  had  his  own  ideas  of  political  economy 
and  of  the  great  principles  of  justice  and  eq- 
uity that  should  influence  the  actions  of  ev- 
ery subject  relative  to  the  State.  They  may 
have  been  narrow  and  crude;  but  how  often  is 
it  the  case,  relative  to  such  things,  that  the 
more  learned,  and  even  the  most  profound, 
statesmen  drift,  in  their  estimates  of  such 
,  principles,  to  an  opposite  extreme! 

Man  is  constitutionall}^  pre-eminently  a  self- 
ish being  not  in  that  vulgar  acceptation  of  the 
term  wherein  he  looks  to  his  own  interest  al- 
ways, and  never  thinks  of  the  rights  and  im- 
munities of  others,  but  in  that  higher  sense 
wherein  he  is  bound  not  only  by  the  prompt- 
ings of  his  own  nature,  but  by  the  truths  of 
revelation  to  love,  peace,  and  home  and  fam- 
ily, for  the  sake  of  the  boon  pleasures  that 
spring  therefrom.  To  love  my  home  and  off- 
spring and  interest  better  than  those  of  an- 
other  is  virtuous  and   commendable,    and  is 


A  Visit  into  the  Begion  Beyond,  97 

essential  to  tlie  preservation  of  chastity  and 
society. 

Abe  Grimsliaw  and  Lis  intimate  companions 
liad  espoused  the  cause  of  neither  side.  "Who 
will  be  bold  enough  to  brand  them  as  traitors 
and  outlaws?  "  Let  them  that's  got  the  nig- 
gers do  the  fightin'  "  may  not  have  been  a  pa- 
triotic utterance,  but  when  the  sentiment  con- 

f 

tained  therein  is  reduced  to  its  last  analysis, 
it  will  be  readily  seen  that  it  contains  the  ba- 
sis of  all  human  action.  It  is  the  common 
plane  upon  which  all  individuality  moves.  It 
is  true  that  Abe  Grimshaw's  ignorance  was 
any  thing  else  but  commendable,  but  refusing 
to  fight  for  a  cause  in  which  he  conceived  that 
he  had  no  earthly  interest  was  praiseworthy — 
at  least  from  a  divine  stand-point.  To  have  en- 
lightened his  mind  may  have,  doubtless  would 
have,  changed  his  opinions.  But  we  are  deal- 
ing here  not  in  theories,  but  with  stern  reali- 
ties. He  was  inflexible  in  what  he  conceived 
to  be  his  duty.     May  it  ever  be  so  with  us! 

The  hazy  February  Sabbath  had  closed,  and 
now  the  leady  hues  of  morning  were  peeping 


98  The  Girl  in  Checks. 

into  my  little  room  at  Abe  Grimsliaw's.  The 
atmosphere  was  fresh  and  cntting,  evincing 
one  of  those  abru]3t  changes  from  antumn- 
like  weather  to  that  of  winter,  so  freqnent  in 
that  climate.  The  ground  was  covered  with 
one  vast  sheet  of  snow,  and  I  heartily  realized, 
as  I  stepped  from  my  little  chamber,  that  the 
pleasant  weather  of  the  day  before  had  been 
instrumental  in  inducing  me  to  leave  home 
without  wraps  of  any  kind.  But  later,  when 
I  threw  myself  into  the  saddle,  wrapped  in  one 
of  Abe  Grimsliaw's  home-woven  bed-blankets, 
I  was  the  recipient  of  some  sound  advice: 
"  We  uns  have  a  sayin'  amongst  us  that  a 
wise  man  always  takes  his  umberrille  with 
hi^Q,  fur  any  fool  would  think  to  take  it  when 
the  rain  is  a-pourin'  down." 

Thus  ended  my  visit  to  Abe  Grimsliaw's, 
and  I  rode  away  meditating  upon  the  pointed 
advice  I  had  received  and  the  bits  of  sectional 
history  I  had  heard.  I  had  proceeded  on  the 
return  trip  only  a  few  miles,  however,  when, 
to  my  horror,  I  discovered  that  I  had  lost  my 
road.     My  dejected  spirit  on  the  day  before 


A  Visit  info  the  Region  Betjond.  99 

had  debarred  me  from  taking  that  notice  of 
the  objects  along  the  road  which  we  passed 
that  otherwise  I  would  have  done;  besides, 
the  snow  had  so  covered  the  road  and  had 
changed  the  general  appearance  of  the  coun- 
try to  such  an  extent  that  it  required  famil- 
iarity with  the  general  topography,  at  least,  of 
the  country  to  keep  the  wa3\ 

Lost  in  the  mountains!  and  that,  too,  in  a 
snow-storm.  I  had  pictured  the  little  dwell- 
ing of  Abe  Grimshaw  as  Jo^t  amid  the  tower- 
ing peaks,  but  alas!  the  personal  reality  of 
such  a  thought  was  by  no  means  so  pleasant. 
Never  did  a  creature  more  earnestly  desire  to 
be  disgorged  into  the  little  clearing  near  the 
little  mountain  chapel,  of  which  I  have  al- 
ready spoken,  than  I  did.  But  "  it  is  an  evil 
wind  that  blows  no  one  any  good:"  and  had  I 
not  lost  my  way  on  that  occasion  perhaps  this 
bit  of  the  biography  of  a  deserter's  daughter 
would  never  have  been  written,  and  the  mount- 
ain cabin  would,  perhaps,  have  ever  remained 
veiled  in  mystery. 


©HAFT'S^  i/X. 


THE  FIND  ON  THE  LONELY  MOUNTAIN-SIDE. 

Gloom  is  upon  thy  lonely  hearth, 

O  silent  house  I  once  filled  with  mirth; 

Sorrow  is  in  the  breezy  sound 

Of  thy  tall  cedars  whispering  round. 

IPKESSED  for\Yard  through  the  snow  like 
a  mariner  without  a  chart  or  compass.  A 
blue  column  of  smoke  shot  up  among  the  leaf- 
less branches  of  the  trees  to  my  left,  and,  al- 
though I  could  not  see  whence  it  came,  I  was 
fully  persuaded  that  it  issued  from  some 
dwelling.  I  determined  to  seek  its  shelter;  for 
I  ^yas  not  only  lost,  but  I  was  shivering  with 
cold.  I  therefore  turned  my  horse  into  the 
pathway  that  led  in  the  direction  of  the  smoke. 
I  was  not  disappointed,  for  I  had  clambered 
'klong  the  steep  mountain-side  for  the  space  of 
scarcely  half  a  mile  when  through  the  heavy 
timber  I  caught  a  glimpse  of  the  little  cab- 
in whence  came  the  smoke. 

It  was  located  on  the  side  and  near  the  base 
(100) 


The  Find  on  the  Lonehj  Mountain-side.  101 

of  a  large  mountain.  Fronting  the  cabin  was 
a  beautiful  valley  of  several  hundred  acres 
of  arable  land,  through  which  the  limpid 
Oolenoi  made  its  wav  like  a  silver  thread. 
The  valley  was  inestimably  valuable  as  a  corn- 
farm.  The  rich,  alluvial  soil,  as  the  thickly 
studded  stalks  stripped  of  their  foliage  readily 
indicated,  made  the  valley  a  paradise  indeed 
for  the  corn-growers.  Thousands  of  bushels 
must  have  been  harvested  therefrom  at  the 
last  gathering-time;  but,  strange  to  say,  be- 
sides the  grain-houses  that  studded  the  out- 
skirts of  this  broad  corn-field,  there  could  be 
seen  but  one  lone  cabin  wherein  there  were 
any  evidences  of  life,  the  one  of  which  I  have 
just  spoken,  and  from  which  came  the  column 
of  blue  smoke.  It  was  built  uj^on  the  side  of 
the  mountain,  its  very  site  impressing  one 
with  the  thought  that  the  builders  must  have 
regarded  the  land  of  the  great  alluvial  plain 
too  precious  to  be  taken  up  by  this  crude 
structure. 

The  cabin  was  a  very  old  one.     The  stately 
cedars  that  bordered  the   yard   were  so  ar- 


102  The  Girl  in  Checks, 

ranged  as  to  leave  no  doubt  in  the  mind  that 
they  were  phxnted  by  the  hand  of  man.  The 
logs  of  the  cabin  were  partially  decayed,  and 
the  roof  was  overgrown  with  moss.  An  ivy 
sprig,  planted,  doubtless,  by  some  hand  that 
had  long  since  ceased  to  act,  had  climbed  a  giant 
oak,  covering  its  trunk  and  branch;  sucking 
away  its  .very  life  like  a  vampire,  by  insensi- 
ble degrees  had  long  since  accomplished  its 
mission  of  death,  and  now  the  old  monarch  of 
the  forest  stood  shorn  of  all  its  beauty  and 
strength. 

These  things  were  unmistakable  evidences 
of  the  great  age  of  the  little  cabin.  But  as  I 
stood  before  this  isolated  home  I  could  not 
help  asking  myself  these  questions:  "Where 
is  the  stock  necessary  to  such  a  farm?  where 
are  the  wagons,  j)lows,  and  farm  implements? 
wdiere  are  the  people  necessary  to  till  it?" 

With  this  train  of  inquiries  flashing  through 
the  mind,  I  knocked  for  admission.  The  call 
was  answered  by  a  decrepit  old  hag.  She  pre- 
tended to  be  very  deaf,  and  when  I  asked  the 
privilege  of  warming  she  feigned  embarrass- 


Tlie  Find  on  the  Loneli/  Moioifain-side,  103 

ment,  such  as  is  frequently  observable  in  deaf 
people  when  they  do  not  understand  what  is 
addressed  to  them.  But  a  fat,  red-faced,  lazy- 
looking  boy,  the  only  inmate  of  the  house  ex- 
cei)t  the  old  hag  about  whom  we  have  just 
spoken,  came  to  the  rescue,  and  drawled  out 
with  a  pusillanimous  whine:  "Uv  course 
you  uns  is  mor'n  welcome  to  all  the  good  you 
uns  can  get  out'n  them  coals.  Take  er  cher 
an'  set  down." 

AVliile  he  was  addressing  these  words  to  the 
unexpected  visitor  he  arose  from  his  seat  and 
carelessly  placed  his  hand  upon  the  low  man- 
tel-piece, knocking  therefrom,  as  if  by  acci- 
dent, a  rusty  old  cow-bell,  which  rolled  and 
tumbled  over  the  floor  as  if  it  were  a  thing  of 
life,  and  as  if  its  mission  in  this  world  was  to 
let  people  know  that  it  possessed  a  clapper. 
The  old  hag  shuffled  toward  the  rolling  bell 
and  grasped  it  by  the  hook  through  which  the 
girdle  passes,  and  hastened  with  tottering  step 
and  palsied  hand,  which  tested  the  ringing  ca- 
pacity of  the  metal  to  its  utmost  degree,  to  re- 
place the  noisy  thing  in  its  former  position. 


104.  The  Girl  in  Checks. 

This  accomplished,  she  seated  herself  in  the 
opposite  jam  of  the  broad  fire-place,  dipped 
an  old  black  pipe  into  the  embers  and  puffed " 
away,  the  very  picture  of  aged  ignorance,  stu- 
pidity, and  abandonment. 

The  awkward  youth  kept  his  lazy  attitude, 
gazing  brazenly  into  the  visitor's  face  while 
Ee  propounded  the  following  questions  and 
many  more  like  them:  "Wher'  is  you  uns 
frum?  Whut  is  you  unses  business  in  these 
here  parts?  Has  you  uns  been  in  these  di^- 
gin's  long?"  4 

I  tried  as  best  I  could  to  satisfy  his  curiosi- 
ty, and  in  return  asked  him  to  whom  the  plan- 
tation embracing  the  large  valley  belonged. 

"Mister  Fox,"  was  his  ready  answer. 

"And  where  does  Mr.  Fox  live?"  I  asked. 

"  Don't  know,  sur,  but  he  lives  a  good  ways 
frum  here,  beca'se  when  he  comes  up  fur  to 
tend  an'  gether  his  crap  I  hearn  his  ban's  say 
it  tuck  'em  two  days  fur  to  come." 

"And  what  does  he  do  with  his  corn?"  I 
asked. 

"  He  puts  it  in  'em  houses  down  thar  in  the 


TJie  Find  on  fJie  Lonely  Mountain-side.  105 

valley,  an'  sells  some  iiv  it,  and  hauls  some  uv 
it  away.  Me  an'  granny  stays  here  to  look 
arter  his  things.  Mister  Fox  is  a  mighty 
clever  man,  he  is." 

During  this  conversation  I  had  ample  op- 
portunity to  examine  my  surroundings.  Two 
old  pine  bedsteads,  a  few  stools  and  crude  split- 
bottomed  chairs,  an  old  greasy  table,  a  broken 
looking-glass,  and  a  cupboard  containing  a 
few  old-fashioned  blue-flowered  cups  and 
plates,  made  up  the  furniture  entire,  with  the 
exception  of  the  cow-bell,  the  old  hag's  pipe, 
a  supply  of  home-raised  tobacco  which  hung 
in  its  natural  state  from  a  stick  placed  across 
the  joist,  the  stalk  having  been  split  a  jiart  of 
its  length  and  placed  astride  the  stick,  and  a 
few  bunches  of  dried  boneset,  life-everlasting, 
and  other  herbs,  which  constituted  the  old 
woman's  medical  supply  for  the  winter. 

While  surveying  the  apartment  two  things, 
although  of  very  little  consequence  apparent- 
ly, impressed  me.  One  was  the  problem  how 
the  few  coals  that  smoldered  upon  the  hearth 
could  produce  that  column  of  blue  smoke  that 


106  The  Girl  in  Checls, 

belched  with  such  energy  from  the  chimney- 
top,  but  the  soot  may  have  been  on  fire.  This 
was  the  only  solution  o£  the  problem  that  I 
could  arrive  at.  The  other  was  simply  this: 
As  my  eyes  wandered  over  the  apartment  I 
saw  this  sentence  cut  with  a  knife  into  the 
plain,  unpainted  boards  of  the  mantel-piece: 
"CiNDA  Houston  Was  Born  July  10th,  1862." 

Could  it  be  that  I  was  in  the  cabin  that  con- 
stituted, in  days  gone  by,  the  happy  home  of 
the  unfortunate  Sam  Houston?  Was  it  he, 
so  rudely  torn  from  his  home  and  dragged  to 
a  deserter's  doom,  who  cut  these  rude  letters 
chronicling  the  happy  event  of  the  birth  of 
his  only  child?     It  must  have  been  so. 

Truly  it  was  a  strange  place  as  well  as  a 
strange  way  to  record  such  an  event.  Never- 
theless it  was  in  accord  with  many  of  the  acts 
and  customs  of  these  simple-hearted,  plain 
mountaineers. 

I  was  so  impressed  with  the  bit  of  personal 
reminiscence  relative  to  Sam  Houston  that  I 
had  received  from  Abe  Grimshaw  the  previ- 
ous night,  together  with  these  rude  letters  cut 


The  Find  on  the  Lonely  Mountain'Side.  107 

into  the  boards  of  tlie  mantel-piece,  that  I 
asked  the  lubberly  youth:  "From  whom  did 
Mr.  Fox  buy  this  plantation,  and  how  long 
has  he  owned  it?" 

"Don't  know,  sur,  but  mebby  granny  kin 
tell  you,"  was  his  reply. 

But  granny  was  so  deaf  that  we  could  make 
her  understand  nothing  whatever,  and  I  was 
compelled  to  leave  the  lonely  cabin  minus  the 
information  I  so  much  desired. 

The  youth,  at  my  request,  seemed  overwill- 
ing  to  accompany  me  to  the  main  road,  and  to 
direct  me,  when  I  parted  from  him  about  a 
mile  from  the  mysterious  cabin,  so  that  I  could 
not  again  miss  the  road. 

Thus  I  left  the  cabin  over  which  was  hung 
a  veil  of  mystery.  But  to  me  that  veil  was 
afterward  lifted,  and  I  was  permitted  to  look 
in  upon  things  that  had  long  remained  cov- 
ered up  to  the  outside  world.  What  I  saw  and 
learned  are  faithfully  recorded  in  these  pages, 
and  form  a  piece  of  sectional  history  which 
the  pen  of  the  historian  has  never  recorded. 
Events  none  the  less  interesting,  however,  on 


108  The  Girl  in  Checks, 

that  account,  but  a  close  study  of  sectional 
history  will  give  the  earnest  inquirer  after 
truth  a  keener  insight  into  the  general  truths, 
and  a  heartier  api:)reciation  of  the  real  state 
of  affairs  as  they  existed  during  the  dark 
days  of  the  Southern  Confederacy,  and  the 
subsequent  years  of  misrule  and  oppression. 

Now  that  the  effulgent  sun  of  the  New 
South  sheds  his  rays  over  hill-top  and  valley, 
let  the  rising  generation  imitate  the  virtues  of 
their  fathers,  and  grow  wiser  and  better  as 
they  read  in  these  pages  a  faithful  portrayal 
of  the  cowardly  acts  and  nefarious  deeds  of 
some  who  were  unworthy  of  the  name  or  the 
place  of  a  Southron. 


©HAFT'S^  /X. 


RANDAL  FOX,  WHO  HAD  NO  LOVE  FOR  WAR. 

DUEING  the  stormy  days  of  1860,  when 
the  black  clouds  of  civil  war  were  gath- 
ering thick  and  fast,  when  excitement  was  at 
its  highest,  and  the  clarion  blast  of  the  call  to 
arms  was  heard  over  the  hills  and  through  the 
vales  of  our  beloved  Carolina,  Randal  Fox, 
with  soldierly  bearing,  flashy  uniform,  and 
flushed  face,  might  have  been  seen  organizing 
his  company  on  the  court-house  green  of  his 
native  county. 

Captain  Fox,  as  he  paraded  his  company  of 
brave  Carolinians,  with  their  gray  uniforms 
and  palmetto  buttons,  up  and  down  the  prin- 
cipal streets  of  the  little  county  seat,  was  in- 
deed a  martial  -  looking  character.  As  the 
children  and  ladies  of  the  little  village  donned 
their  palmetto  rosettes  and  waved  their  little 
flags  and  handkerchiefs  at  the  passing  column, 

he  indeed  was  a  foe,  could  the  "  boys  in  blue  " 

(109) 


110  .      The  Girl  in  Checks. 

have  seen  him,  terrible  to  look  upon.  Defi- 
ance and  victory  were  written  on  every  linea- 
ment of  his  countenance.  The  w^omen  and 
children,  at  least,  thought:  "Woe  be  unto  that 
part  of  the  blue  column  that  Eandal  Fox  shall 
strike!  "  And  indeed  he  would  have  given  the 
Union  army  no  little  trouble  had  his  spirit 
and  courage  mounted  to  that  high  point  in 
battle  that  was  observable  during  these  dress 
parades  and  preparatory  stages.  But  alas! 
when  the  picket  guns  of  the  first  Manassas 
were  heard  in  the  distance  Captain  Fox  grew 
pale,  his  teeth  chattered,  and  his  knees  smote 
together;  and  as  he  passed  hither  and  thither 
amons:  his  men,  unable  to  stand  still  for  a  sin- 
gle  moment,  he  declared  to  his  brave  company 
that,  "on  account  of  a  change  of  climate  and 
sleeping  out  at  night  he  had  contracted  chills," 
which  he  thought  would  wholly  unfit  him  for 
the  active  duties  of  regular  service.  But  when 
his  company  was  wheeled  into  line  of  battle, 
and  when  hundreds  of  pieces  on  both  sides 
began  to  belch  forth  death,  the  excited  and 
cowardly  chieftain  pusillanimously  bellowed 


Banded  Fox,  Who  Had  Xo  Love/or  War.  Ill 

out:  "Ritn,  hojjs,  for  Heaven'' s  sake,  run;  we'll 
every  one  he  killed!''  But  tlie  boys  did  not 
run.  How  overjoyed,  indeed,  the  craven  cap- 
tain would  have  been  had  the  brave  company 
of  Carolinians  obeyed  his  orders,  or  rather  the 
involuntary  exclamation  of  a  cowardly  spirit! 
But  the  individuals  composing  tJiat  company, 
virtuallv  without  a  leader,  were  made  of  sterner 
stuff  than  their  nominal  captain. 

Later,  however,  there  was  given  him  the  op- 
portunity which  he  coveted.  A  shell  burst 
in  front  of  his  company,  tearing  up  a  mass  of 
earth,  but  otherwise  doing  no  damage  except 
a  minute  fragment  which  took  a  bit  of  hide 
from  the  captain's  forefinger.  His  screams 
were  heard  above  the  din  of  battle,  and  they 
were  piteous  indeed.  Holding  up  his  hand,  as 
will  a  hound  puppy  his  foot  when  it  is  hurt, 
he  flew  to  the  rear  at  a  speed  closely  resem- 
bling that  of  a  renowned  trotting-horse  of 
the  present  day,  and  with  yells  very  much  like 
those  of  the  beast  to  which  we  have  just  com- 
pared him. 

The  battle  was  fought  and  the  victory  won, 


1J2  The  Girl  in  Checks. 

uotwitlistanding  Captain  Y ox.' s  forced  and  loi- 
aioidable  absence.  The  Soutliern  Confederacy 
was  justly  proud  of  the  action  of  her  brave 
boys.  The  governmental  authorities,  there- 
fore, very  justly  concluded  that  the  further 
service  of  one  who  had  contracted  chills  in, 
and  had  given  one  hand  to,  the  defense  of  his 
country  was  not  needed  in  active  warfare. 
Captain  Randal  Fox  was  therefore  discharged 
from  active  service,  and  ever  afterward,  dur- 
ing the  great  civil  struggle,  his  name  appeared 
on  the  list  of  "home  guards,"  "light  duty 
men,"  etc.  In  these  companies  the  captain 
could  ahvays  be  seen  at  the  head  of  the  little 
column,  wath  his  wounded  arm  supported  by 
a  strip  of  scarlet  cloth,  doubtless  intended  as 
emblematical  of  the  blood  he  had  given  for 
his  country's  defense;  and  in  his  countenance 
and  about  his  person  there  was  an  air  of  one 
who  had  fought  and  conquered.  The  children 
of  the  community,  whose  fathers  were  on  the 
tented  field,  looked  upon  him  as  a  great  sol- 
dier, and  their  eyes  dilated  with  large  wonder 
when  he  told  his  yarns  about  bloody  battle- 


Randal  Fox,  Who  Had  Xo  Love  for  War.  113 

fields  and  narrow  escapes.  But  brave  soldiers' 
wives  whispered  to  eacli  other  that  he  was  a 
coward,  and  ought  to  be  at  the  front. 

Up  to  the  time  of  the  battle  in  which  Cap- 
tain Fox  received  that  fearful  wound,  which 
disabled  his  arm  for  four  years,  he  had  been 
looked  upon  by  his  fellow-citizens  as  an  hon- 
est man,  and  doubtless  he  was.  But  it  is  as- 
tonishing how  one  fail (( re  to  meet  the  reasona- 
ble and  just  demands  of  our  fellow-beings  fre- 
quently develops  a  character  wholly  different 
from  that  formerly  possessed.  Captain  Fox 
had  failed,  miserably  so,  as  a  soldier.  His 
conscience  was  smitten;  he  felt  condemned  in 
the  estimation  of  his  fellow-citizens.  The  arm 
in  the  sling  was  a  living  evidence  to  himself, 
as  well  as  to  his  countrymen,  that  he  was  a 
coward,  a  liar,  and  therefore  dishonored  and 
dishonest.  Whatever  virtue  he  may  have  had 
as  a  citizen  prior  to  the  battle  of  Manassas 
went  down  on  that  (to  him)  fatal  field.  He 
was  self-condemned;  what  could  men  expect 
of  him  but  falsehood,  treachery,  and  deceit? 

He  rode  at  the  head  of  his  little  column  of 
8 


114  The  Girl  in  Checks. 

beardless  boys  and  disabled  men;  but  if  any 
patriotism  had  ever  glowed  in  liis  heart,  it  had 
now  gone  to  its  eternal  grave.  What  did  he 
care  for  the  Southern  Confederacy  ?  Though 
he  diligently  sought  deserters,  what  was  he 
but  a  deserter  of  the  meanest  kind?  Which 
was  the  more  honorable — a  deserter  who  con- 
scientiously believed  that  the  war  was  of  no 
vital  interest  to  him,  and  who  therefore  hid 
himself  away  in  the  mountains  that  surround- 
ed his  home,  or  one  who  must  have  recognized 
the  importance  of  the  pending  issue,  but  in 
spite  of  his  convictions  hid  himself  behind  a 
refuge  of  lies? 

There  was  not  in  all  Carolina  a  more  perse- 
vering hunter  of  deserters  than  Eandal  Fox. 
How  natural!  Accused  of  a  crime  ourselves, 
how  we  would  dislike  to  be  brought  for  trial 
before  a  jury  every  member  of  which  them- 
selves had  been  held  in  the  public  estimation 
as  guilty  of  the  very  crime  for  which  we  were 
to  be  tried!  Human  nature  would  teach  us, 
no  matter  what  defense  we  might  be  able  to 
produce,  that  the  final  verdict  would  be  guilty. 


J 
I 


liandal  Fox,  ^VJ(0  Had  Xo  Love  for  War.  115 

Each  juryman  would  feel  called  upon  to  ren- 
der such  a  verdict,  in  order  to  cover  up  his 
owoi  criminality  in  the  eyes  of  the  public.  No 
wonder,  then,  that  Eandal  Fox  was  zealous  in 
bringing  deserters  to  justice;  it  was  natural. 
It  was  simply  poor,  weak,  human  nature  strug- 
gling to  vindicate  its  deformities  and  to  cover 
up  its  own  defects.  Had  Randal  Fox  stopped 
here  it  would  not  have  been  so  bad,  but  crim- 
inality is  progressive.  From  the  little  lonely 
cabin  on  the  mountain-side  comes  a  wail  of 
agony  to  which  heaven  will  listen  and  which 
God  will  revenge. 


t 


©{iAPTEi^  ;<i. 


THE  ARREST. 

THE  moon  lit  up  tlie  towering  peaks  of 
the  Blue  Eidge  Mountrans.  The  silence 
that  reigned  everywhere  was  oppressive.  It 
seemed  that  the  stars  themselves  were  listen- 
ing, while  the  massive  piles  of  earth  and  stone, 
that  stood  out  under  the  canopy  of  heaven  like 
silent  sentinels,  seemed  to  be  breathlessly 
awaiting  some  awful  tragedy. 

A  small  party  of  men  wended  their  way  up 
the  beautiful  valley  of  the  limpid  Oolenoi, 
with  Captain  Fox  at  their  head.  Their  feet 
were  muffled,  and  under  the  mellow  rays  of 
the  moon  they  looked  like  moving  specters. 
They  press  forward  noiselessly,  toward  the 
little  cabin  which  we  have  described  in  a  for- 
mer chapter.  It  is  the  home  of  Sam  Houston, 
and  the  day  that  has  just  closed  was  the  birth- 
day of  his  much-beloved  little  'Cinda,   July 

10th,  1863.     The  fond  father  sat  dandling  his 
(116) 


The  Arrest.  117 

little  innocent  first-born  on  his  knee,  utterly 
unconscious  of  the  pall  of  sorrow  that  was 
about  to  be  thrown  over  his  peaceful  home,  and 
of  the  mantle  of  suffering  which  was  destined 
so  soon  to  fall  upon  his  prattling  babe  and 
innocent  wife. 

The  approaching  party  drew  nearer  aiid  yet 
nearer,  until  at  last  they  surrounded  the  house 
and  called  for  Sam  Houston. 

The  inmates  of  that  happy  home  exchanged 
significant  glances.  The  dutiful,  loving  young 
wife  grew  pale  and  almost  swooned.  Her 
Avoman's  instinct  told  her  what  would  be  the 
final  issue.  With  true  woman's  spirit  she  as- 
sumed that  it  was  largely  her  fault  that  Sam 
Houston  was  at  home  as  a  deserter.  If  he  was 
shot,  how  could  she  bear  the  thought  that  his 
blood  was  on  her  hands.  She  had  written  to 
him  repeatedly  of  her  loneliness,  and  this  may 
have  induced  him  to  leave  the  army.  Such 
thoughts  flashed  through  her  mind  as  she 
stood  confronting  her  husband. 

Brave  Sam  Houston — for  if  he  was  a  desert- 
er, he  was  not  a   coward — in  the  meantime 


118  The  Girl  in  Checks. 

threw  open  the  door,  and  gave  himself  up  to 
Captain  Fox  and  his  men.  He  was  pale,  but  not 
from  a  sense  of  fear;  it  came  from  thought  of 
the  anguish  and  grief  that  the  incident  was 
destined  to  beget  in  the  heart  of  his  devoted 

young  wife.     He  thought  not  of  himself,  but 

« 

of  his  wife  and  babe.  He  tried  to  comfort  his 
weeping  spouse;  he  bid  her  be  strong  for 
'Cinda's  sake.  The  scene  was  indeed  an  affect- 
ing one.  AVhen  he  embraced  his  prattling 
babe  and  loving  wife  for  the  last  time  his 
troubled  heart  heaved  and  swelled  within  his 
breast  as  if  it  would  burst  with  grief,  and  the 
brave  deserter  gave  vent  to  his  feelings  of  an- 
guish in  smothered,  choking  sobs.  They 
were  not  the  whimpering  sobs  of  a  pusillani- 
mous coward,  but  the  magnanimous  outburst 
of  the  feelings  of  one  of  nature's  noblemen. 

They  produced  a  pair  of  handcuffs,  but  the 
brave  mountaineer  protested  against  such 
treatment.  He  begged  the  privilege  of  going 
with  them  as  a  free  man,  assuring  them  that 
he  would  make  no  effort  to  gain  his  liberty. 
They  persisted,  while  he  appealed  touchiugly 


The  Arrest.  119 

for  his  privilege  as  a  man  of  honor.  It  was 
not  obsequiousness;  it  was  the  protest  of  a 
brave,  manly  heart.  It  was,  however,  a  pro- 
test which  Captain  Fox  was  incapable  of  ap- 
preciating; so  mean  and  cowardly  was  his  spir- 
it that  he  would  have  handcuffed  a  harmless 
boy.  Magnanimity,  of  the  lowest  degree,  is 
rarely,  if  ever,  found  to  exist  in  a  real  coward- 
ly heart. 

They  handcuffed  Sam  Houston.  The  wife 
saw  it  through  her  tears;  she  heard  the  metal- 
lic click  of  the  steel  bracelets.  It  was  a  fatal 
sight  and  sound  to  the  poor  woman,  for  im- 
mediately her  tears  ceased  to  flow;  grief,  no 
longer  able  to  find  an  outlet  through  sobs  and 
tears,  began  to  consume  the  brain.  Those 
were  the  last  tears  that  ever  flowed  from  the 
eyes  of  the  grief-burdened  woman.  Already 
a  wild,  cold,  metallic  look  darted  from  her 
once  soft,  gray  eyes.  She  was  thenceforward, 
to  the  day  of  her  death,  a  maniac. 

Her  mind,  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye,  had 
swept  forward  and  had  unerringly  anticipated 
the  sad  results  of  the  fatal  work  of  that  night. 


120  The  Girl  in  Checks. 

A  handcuffed  husband  riddled  with  bullets 
and  bleeding  at  every  wound  was  indelibly 
photographed  upon  her  heart.  Pressing 
her  infant  daughter  to  her  bosom,  and  crouch-, 
ing  in  a  corner  of  the  rude  dwelling,  she  took 
no  further  notice  of  the  little  party  of  men 
which  led  her  husband  away  through  the 
broad  valley  to  the  little  clump  of  bushes 
where  their  horses  remained  in  waiting. 

As  Captain  Fox  led  his  doomed  prisoner 
across  the  broad,  alluvial  plain  he  thought  of 
its  value,  set  his  heart  upon  it,  and  began  to 
lay  plans  to  possess  it. 

Is  there  any  thing  in  a  name?  There  may 
not  be,  and  yet  how  frequently  it  is  the  case 
that  a  name  indicates  the  character,  in  some 
degree,  of  its  possessor!  The  Bible,  especial- 
ly the  Old  Testament,  abounds  in  instances 
where  the  name  of  an  individual  is  an  index 
to  his  life  and  character.  Abraham,  Naomi, 
Job,  together  with  many  others,  are  beautiful 
examples. 

It  is  true  that  these  names  grew  out  of 
prominent  traits  of  character  and  certain  en- 


The  Arrest  121 

Yironments  and  circumstances;  but  may  not 
the  hand  of  God  have  been  in  it?  Can  we 
really  refer  any  thing  to  mere  chance  ?  We  * 
know  that  God  changed  the  name  of  Abrani, 
and  he  did  it  for  a  purpose.  He  desired  that 
the  very  meaning  and  associations  of  the  name 
Abraham  might  beget  within  the  hearts  of  all 
true  believers  a  zeal  and  a  profound  admira- 
tion and  love  for  his  cause. 

What  countenance  does  not  blush  with 
shame  when  the  veil  is  lifted  by  the  hand  of 
God  from  that  cave  to  which  Lot  and  his  two 
daughters  fled  at  the  destruction  of  the  evil 
cities  of  the  plain?  Moab,  the  offspring  of 
the  incestuous  crime,  means  "son  of  his  fa- 
ther." Trace  that  name  through  the  annals 
of  the  divinely  inspired  records  and  see  how 
the  very  name  Moab  stands  related  to  all  that  is 
revolting.  Was  there  no  design  on  the  part 
of  God,  in  forever  fastening  that  name  on  the 
descendants  of  the  wicked  daughter  of  Lot? 

May  not  God,  who  knows  all  things  and 
who  overrules  all  things,  frequently  fix  cer- 
tain names  on  certain  individuals  ?   Abigail,  in 


122  The  Girl  in  Checks. 

speaking  to  David  of  lier  chiirlisli  husband^ 
Kabal,  said:  "  As  liis  name  is  so  is  lie."  Christ 
likewise  alludes  to  Peter,  and  tliiis  leads  ns  to 
tliink  tliat  there  is  at  least  something  in  a 
name. 

Of  conrse  this  is  mere  speculation ;  bnt  may 
we'not  speculate  when  the  name  of  the  char- 
acter whose  black  deeds  mar  these  pages  sug- 
gests it? 

"Eandal"  is  Anglo-Saxon,  and  means 
"house-wolf."  Eandal  Fox!  How  potently 
suggestive  the  very  name !  He  had  invaded  a 
peaceful  home,  bound  with  iron  fetters  a  bravo 
man,  and  by  this  cowardly  act  he  had  dethroned 
the  reason  of  a  loving  wife,  thus  bringing  un- 
told suffering  and  injustice  upon  the  innocent. 

But  not  yet  satisfied,  he  combines  the  low, 
mean,  cowardly  spirit  of  the  wolf  with  the  cun- 
ning of  the  fox. 

As  the  little  party  pushed  forw^ard  over  the 
steep,  winding  road  the  Captain  bid  the  oth- 
ers move  onward  and  leave  the  prisoner  in  the 
rear  with  him,  that  the}^  might  have  a  few 
moments'  private  conversation. 


The  Arrest.  123 

Ahab-like,  tlie  sclieming  Fox  proposed  to 
give  Sam  Houston,  not  "a  better  place"  nor 
"its  worth  in  money,"  but  liis  liberty,  if  he 
would  convey  to  him  a  title-deed  to  the  beau- 
tiful valley  which  they  had  just  crossed. 

Sam  Houston  did  not  know  of  the  condition 
of  his  wife.  He  had  mistaken  her  apparent 
calmness  at  the  time  of  his  departure  for  one 
of  composure,  one  of  brave  determination  to 
make  the  best  of  her  situation.  Had  he  known 
her  real  condition,  could  he  have  seen  her  form 
crouching  at  that  moment  in  the  corner  of  the 
little  log  cabin,  the  issue  of  this  proposal  may 
liaA^e  been  very  different  to  what  it  really  was. 

But  Sam  Houston  had  already  made  a  rec- 
ord as  a  brave,  dutiful  soldier.  Up  to  the 
time  of  his  desertion  there  had  been  nothing 
against  him.  He  was  conscious  of  that  record, 
and  notwithstanding  he  had  left  the  army 
without  a  furlough,  he  believed  that  mercy 
would  be  granted  him,  and  he  had  determined 
to  meet  the  issue  like  the  brave  man  that  he 
was,  re-enter  the  army,  if  his  life  was  spared, 
and  fight  to  its  close,  or  till  some  bullet  should 


124  The  Girl  in  Checks. 

send  liim  to  his  eternal  home.  During  his 
silent  ride,  thus  far,  he  had  called  ujjon  an  all- 
wise  and  gracious  God  to  \vitness  these  reso- 
lutions, and  to  give  grace  sufficient  for  their 
consummation.  He  had  mentally  committed 
himself  and  family  to  the  keeping  of  a  kind 
Providence;  his  resolutions  and  purposes  were 
fixed.  Therefore,  when  this  criminal  proposal 
greeted  his  ear,  his  manly  form  reared  itself 
erect  in  the  saddle,  holy  indignation  flashed 
from  every  lineament  of  his  bronzed  face, 
and  a  look  of  chivalrous  defiance  darted  from 
his  large  blue  eyes,  as  he  replied,  in  substance : 
"My  grandfather's  own  hand  cut  the  virgin 
forest  from  that  valley.  His  trusty  rifle  drove 
the  wolves  from  the  door  of  my  little  cabin 
home  in  my  father's  childhood  days,  while  my 
grandmother  planted  the  stately  cedars  that 
girdle  the  little  log  house.  There  my  father 
lived  and  died,  and  there  shall  be  the  home  of 
my  wife  and  child,  though  I  fall  in  the  front  of 
the  battle.  "Would  you  rob  not  only  me,  but  my 
wife  and  child,  of  a  home  ?  It  is  in  your  pow- 
er to  take  my  life,  but  never  my  home." 


The  Arrest.  125 

Thus  foiled,  there  was  no  scheming  Jezebel 
to  come  to  the  rescue  of  this  modern  xlhab. 
But  Fox's  heart  was  blacker  than  even  Ahab's, 
He  grasped  the  breech  of  the  heavy  navy  re- 
volver that  hung  at  his  side,  and  from  its 
smoking  muzzle  flew  the  bullet  that  sent  the 
handcuffed  j)risoner  to  his  last  resting-place. 
The  poor  man  reeled  and  fell  manacled  to  the 
ground. 

The  pale  moon  itself  seemed  to  shiver  with 
fear.  The  silent  mountain-peaks  kept  silence 
no  longer,  but  there  belched  from  one  and 
then  from  the  other  the  echo  of  that  fatal  shot, 
and  at  last  the  distant  hills  repeated  in  grief- 
burdened  groans  the  dying  sound. 

The  incident  was  easily  explained  to  Fox's 
three  companions,  who  hastened  back  to  the 
bloody  scene.  "  He  attempted  to  escape,"  was 
the  readily  framed  falsehood. 

They  took  up  the  lifeless  body  and  bore  it 
a  few  miles  further;  then  they  attached  weights 
to  it  and  sunk  it  in  the  pure  waters  of  the 
beautiful  Keeowee.  The  spring-like  waters 
almost  seemed  to  blush  as  they  swallowed  u^ 


126  The  Girl  in  Checks. 

the  lifeless  trunk  of  the  murdered  man.  The 
gurgling  sweep  of  the  river  certainly  seemed, 
there  in  the  silence  of  the  night,  like  the  sup- 
pressed murmur  of  unseen  si)irits.  But  there 
upon  the  river-bank  they  swear  to  each  other 
eternal  secrecy. 

No  fiery  prophet  aj)peared  upon  the  scene 
of  the  awful  tragedy  with  the  announcement 
that  a  like  fate  awaited  the  foul  murderer,  as 
occurred  in  the  case  of  Ahab  when  he  took 
possession  of  humble  Naboth's  home.  But 
God  is  just;  vengeance  is  his;  he  will  repay. 

Crime  is  indeed  j)rogressive.  The  captain 
had  shown  the  white  feather  at  Manassas,  but 
he  slays  his  man  at  last,  and  alas !  in  cold  blood. 
From  cowardice  to  murder.  Wisely,  there- 
fore, does  St.  Peter  place  bravery  first  in  his 
catalogue  of  Christian  virtues.  "Add  to  your 
faith  virtue" — that  is,  courage.  Convictions 
without  courage  to  back  them,  whether  in 
the  Christian's  warfare  or  in  the  stern  bat- 
tles of  secular  life,  are  one  of  the  most  fruit- 
ful sources  of  crime. 

If  Captain  Fox,  who  had  once  been  reco^- 


The  Arrest.  127 

uized  as  a  good  citizen,  .liad  possessed  eveu 
that  degree  of  what  is  sometimes  called  hrute 
courage  requisite  to  bear  up  his  convictions 
as  a  Confederate  soldier,  his  hands  would  nev- 
er have  been  stained  with  the  blood  not  only 
of  Sam  Houston,  but  also  of  that  of  his  inno- 
cent wife. 


(B\\f\f>T^^  }iU. 


SAM  HOUSTON'S  WIFE'S  JOURNEY  TO  A  LIVING 
TOMB,  AND  HER  DEATH. 

THE  bright  morning  sun  of  July  11,  1863, 
was  just  beginning  to  throw  long  shad- 
ows across  the  beautiful  valley  of  the  Oolenoi 
when  Sam  Houston's  wife  emerged  from  her 
cabin  home.  She  pressed  the  innocent  little 
'Cinda  close  to  her  bosom  as  she  plodded  her 
way  along  the  steep,  winding  roads.  She  was 
bareheaded  and  bare-footed.  In  this  condi- 
tion she  wended  her  way  for  twenty  miles 
along  the  serpentine  roads  to  the  nearest  rail- 
way station.  In  time  of  peace  she  would  have 
been  apprehended  and  detained,  but  the  read- 
er must  remember  that  the  entire  country  was 
in  a  state  of  ebullition.  She  was  recognized, 
perhaps,  by  no  one  except  Abe  Grimshaw,  who 
knew  nothing  then  of  the  occurrence  of  the 
preceding  night,  and  he  did  not  even  dream 
of  her  state  of  mind,  thinking  that  she  was 

simply  going  to  the  house  of  some  neighbor- 
(128) 


Death  of  Sam  Houston's  Wife.  120 

ing  mountaineer  on  some  errand  requiring 
great  haste.  But  when  the  truth  came  to 
light  that  she  was  missing  from  home,  then 
he  remembered  the  wild  look,  perceivable  even 
at  the  distance  he  was  from  her,  that  was  on 
her  face. 

The  arrest  of  Houston  had  been  so  success- 
fully conducted  that  no  one  knew  the  particu- 
lars of  it,  nor  even  the  fact  itself,  except  those 
who  had  j)articipated  in  it.  The  community 
realized  the  fact  that  both  he  and  his  wife 
were  gone  from  home.  The  cause  of  their 
mysterious  disappearance  was  not  known  in 
the  community  for  some  years  after  the  fear- 
ful tragedy  of  the  night  when  Houston  was 
apprehended  and  so  foully  murdered. 

It  is  necessary,  also,  to  say  in  this  connec- 
tion  that  the  death  of  Sam  Houston  gave  the 
Confederacy,  from  that  time  forth,  three  good 
soldiers.  The  men  who  accompanied  Randal 
Fox  on  his  bloody  mission  of  murder  and  rob- 
bery on  that  eventful  night  became  so  dis- 
gusted with  that  department  of  service,  and  so 

conscience-smitten,  that  they  forthwith  gave 
9 


130  The  Girl  in  Checks. 

np  their  commissious  as  "  light  duty  men,"  en- 
listed in  active  service,  and  fought  to  the  close 
of  the  war.  Two  of  them  fell  upon  the  bloody 
and  historic  field  of  Appomattox,  and  the  other 
returned  home,  and  on  his  dying  bed,  several 
years  after  the  close  of  that  bloody  struggle, 
made  a  full  confession  of  the  horrible  work  of 
that  night. 

I  have  digressed  thus  far  in  order  to  show 
how  the  matter  of  which  I  am  writing  came 
to  light.  To  resume,  however,  the  thread  of 
my  narrative:  Sam  Houston's  wife  reached 
the  little  railroad  station  unmolested.  She  en- 
tered the  coach  of  the  Columbia-bound  pas- 
senger train,  and  with  the  small  sum  of  Con- 
federate money  which  her  devoted  husband 
had  saved,  and  which  he  thrust  into  her  hand 
on  the  eve  of  his  departure,  she  paid  her  way 
through  to  the  capital  city  of  the  State. 
Crouched  down  in  one  corner  of  the  coach, 
pressing  her  infant  close  to  her  heaving  bo- 
som, she  was  indeed  a  picture  sad  to  look  upon. 
The  prattling  infant,  with  its  smiling  face,  un- 
conscious of  the  sorrows  that  filled  its  moth- 


Death  of  Sam  Houston's  Wife.  131 

er's   heart,   afforded   a   strangely  contrasting 
picture  to  that  of  the  crouching  mother. 

As  the  deranged  mother  boarded  the  train 
Randal  Fox  observed  and  recognized  her,  for 
he  had  returned  from  his  bloody  mission.  He 
quickly  read  the  result  of  his  fearful  crime; 
and,  to  add  to  its  horror,  there  was  an  expres- 
sion of  satisfaction  on  his  smooth,  milk  and 
honey  countenance.  The  foul  game  he  was 
playing  seemed  destined  now  to  be  a  success. 
O  the  depravity  of  fallen  man!  Who  can 
fathom  the  depths  to  which  he  is  capable  of 
falling?  Whatever  may  have  been  his  reputed 
character  prior  to  the  war,  whatever  may  have 
been  his  virtues  as  a  peaceful,  law-abiding 
citizen  before  that  great  struggle  which  tried 
the  souls  of  men,  we  now  behold  Randal  Fox 
fallen  to  the  utmost  dej^ths  of  criminality. 
He  now,  indeed, 

Hath  into  monstrous  habits  put  the  graces 
That  once  were  his,  and  is  become  as  black 
As  if  besmeared  in  hell. 

He  too  boarded  the  train,  and  sat  in  another 
coach,  apparently  unconcerned,  and  affable  to 


132  The  Girl  in  Checks. 

a  degree  that  was  unnsual  even  for  liim.  He 
was  determined  to  watch  closely  the  issue  of 
his  deep-laid  scheme. 

Once  within  the  limits  of  the  proud  old  cap- 
ital on  the  Congaree,  whither  the  poor,  de- 
mented wife  supposed  they  had  carried  her 
husband,  she  rushed  hither  and  thither,  close- 
ly scanning  every  passing  company  of  militia 
and  every  straggling  soldier;  but,  disappoint- 
ed at  every  turn,  the  poor  creature  sat  down 
in  the  street,  having  laid  her  infant  upon  the 
bare  gi^ound,  whence  her  meaningless  chatter- 
ing and  hysterical  laughter  soon  attracted  the 
attention  of  the  police.  They  apprehended 
her,  and  it  is  almost  useless  to  state  that  she 
was  committed  to  a  cell  in  the  lunatic  asylum. 
A  kind  and  compassionate  lady  took  the  in- 
fant to  her  home,  and  reared  the  little  orphan 
to  womanhood. 

One  month  after  the  committal  to  the  asy- 
lum the  lifeless  body  of  Sam  Houston's  wife 
was  consigned  to  a  grave  in  the  public  ceme- 
tery in  Columbia,  S.  C. 

Randal    Fox,   during    the    time    that    had 


Death  of  Sam  Houston's  Wife.  133 

elapsed  since  lier  committal  to  the  asylum,  had 
kept  himself  posted;  and,  as  soon  as  he  heard 
of  the  death  of  his  helpless,  demented  victim, 
he  looked  upon  his  scheme  as  perfected.    For 
in  the  interim  of  her  incarceration  in  a  living- 
tomb  he  had  gone  to  the  lonely  little  cabin  on 
the  mountain-side,  and  had  stolen  therefrom 
the  land  documents  of  Sam  Houston,  knowing 
that  there  were  no  heirs  living  except  the  lit- 
tle infant,  whose  origin  was  now  wrapped  in 
profound  mystery.     Therefore,  realizing  that 
the  property  would,  under  a  law  of  the  State, 
be  sold  for  taxes,   he  determined   to   doubly 
secure  the  rich  valley  upon  which  his  heart 
was  set. 

The  reader  has  already  anticipated  the  re- 
sult. He  forged  such  alterations  in  the  land 
documents  as  were  necessary  to  secure  the 
property.  Furthermore,  he  allowed  the  prop- 
erty to  be  sold  for  taxes,  and  bought  it  at  the 
sheriff's  sale  for  a  nominal  sum.  Thus  the 
property  was  secured  by  titles  from  the  sher- 
iff of  the  county,  and  his  forgery  covered  up, 
at  least  for  a  time. 


134  The  Girl  in  Checks. 

Surely  Tom  Tliaxton  spoke  the  truth  when 
he  uttered  that  seutimeut  relative  to  a  future 
judgment.  The  penal  codes  of  this  world  can 
never  mete  out  justice  to  such  criminals  as 
this  heartless  murderer  and  robber.  The  di- 
vine fiat  exercised  in  that  awful  injunction,  at 
the  last  day,  "  Depart,  ye  workers  of  iniquity, 
into  everlasting  fire,  prepared  for  the  devil 
and  his  angels,"  can  alone  dispense  proper 
punishment  to  such  sinners. 


©HAPTEi^  ;><iii. 


HOW  'CINDA  RETAINED  HER  NAME. 

No  stream  from  its  source 
Flows  seaward,  how  lonely  soever  its  course, 
But  what  some  land  is  gladdened.    No  star  ever  rose 
And  set,  without  influence  somewhere.    Who  knows 
What  earth  needs  from  earth's  lowest  creature  ?  No  life 
Can  be  pure  in  its  purpose  and  strong  in  its  strife, 
And  all  life  not  be  purer  and  stronger  thereby. 

— Lucile. 

THE  reader  will,  as  a  natural  consequence, 
feel  an  interest  in  the  little  orphan  so 
cruelly  deprived  of  father  and  mother.  The 
name,  "  'Cinda,"  was  all  that  she  inherited  for 
a  number  of  years  from  the  fond  parents  who 
had  fallen  victims  to  the  avarice  of  Eandal 
Fox.  That  name,  however,  was  destined  to 
cling  to  her.  The  lady  who  became  her  fos- 
ter-mother visited  the  poor,  demented  mother 
while  in  the  asylum.  Every  means  w^as  used 
to  get  some  possible  clue  to  her  name,  but  the 

reason  of  the  poor  woman  was  so  completely 

(135) 


136  The  Girl  in  Checks. 

dethroned  that  all  measures  failed  to  reveal 
^vho  the  poor  creature  was,  or  whence  she 
came.  However,  at  her  last  hour  on  earth  she 
called  for  her  infant.  Reason  seemed  to  re- 
turn for  a  short  period;  and  when  the  little 
creature  was  brought  into  the  cell  where  the 
poor  woman  lay  dying,  she  clasped  it  in  her 
arms  and  imprinted  many  kisses  on  its  little 
cheek,  as  she  murmured  its  name — "  'Cinda, 
'Cinda."  Then,  pressing  the  babe  closer  to 
her  bosom,  she  said:  "They  took  you  away 
from  me,  'Cinda,  but  God  has  brought  you 
back  again.  They  killed  papa,  too,  because  he 
came  back  from  the  war  to  see  us,  but  now  we 
are  going  to  see  him.  See,  papa  is  coming 
for — coming  for — for — " 

These  last  words  were  uttered  with  great 
effort,  and  the  last  sentence  was  staid  from 
completion  by  the  hand  of  death.  Thus  the 
poor  and  doubly  wronged  mother  fell  back 
upon  the  pillow  of  her  couch,  cold  in  death. 
There  was  a  smile  on  her  features,  wafting 
back  to  mortals  the  assurance  of  that  ecstacy 
and  joy  that  lit  up  her  pure  soul  as  it  made 


Hoiv  'Cincla  Retained  Her  Xame.         137 

its  advent  into  the  unseen  land  of  rest,  and 
which  was  an  earnest  of  everlasting  happi- 
ness. 

Thus  died  the  mother  of  'Cinda  Houston, 
leaving  little  evidence  as  to  who  she  was. 
One  thing,  however,  was  evident  to  those 
who  witnessed  her  death,  and  that  was  of 
very  great  inij^ortance  in  determining  her 
identity.  She  was  evidently  the  wife  of  a  de- 
serter who  had  been  apprehended  and  shot 
for  his  misdemeanor.  Her  wearing  apparel 
and  her  dialect  gave  evidence  of  the  fact  that 
she  was  from  the  mountainous  portion  of  the 
State.  Besides  these  evidences  pointing  to 
the  place  of  her  nativity,  the  train  officials  re- 
membered bringing  such  a  woman  into  Co- 
lumbia from  the  extreme  western  portion  of 
the  State.  All  of  these  evidences  combined 
pointed  unmistakably  to  the  place  of  her  na- 
tivity. 

'Cinda  was,  however,  retained  in  the  home 
of  Mrs.  Depew,  the  kind  lady  who  had  taken 
her  when  the  poor  mother  was  committed  to 
the  asylum.     She  was  reared  as  one  of  Mrs. 


138  The  Girl  in  Checks, 

Depew's  own  children,  and  grew  up  to  be  an 
accomplished  and  beautiful  lady.  When  she 
came  to  young  womanhood  her  foster-mother 
gave  her  a  complete  history  of  her  past  life, 
and  also  of  the  death  of  her  mother  and  her 
dying  utterances,  together  with  other  facts 
that  she  had  gathered  during  the  eighteen 
years  that  had  passed  by  since  that  sad  death 
in  the  asylum. 

Mrs.  Depew  thought  best  that  'Cinda  should 
know  of  these  mysteries  that  enshrouded  the 
place  of  her  nativity;  for  during  those  years 
she  had  gathered  evidence  not  only  confirm- 
ing the  hypothesis  that  'Cinda's  mother's 
home  was  in  the  extreme  north-western  por- 
tion of  the  State,  but  also  that  there  had  been 
foul  ]plciy  in  the  death  of  'Cinda's  father,  and 
that  the  child  had  not  only  been  robbed  of  fa- 
ther and  mother,  but  also  of  a  valuable  valley 
on  the  Oolenoi.  This  intelligence  was  impart- 
ed to  'Cinda  while  her  foster-mother  was  on  a 
dying  bed. 

The  war,  with  its  terrible  consequences,  to- 
gether with  its  foulest  blot — the  burning  of  Co- 


How  'Clnda  Retained  Her  Name.        139 

lumbia— had  deprived  Mrs.  Depew  of  all  her 
property;  yet  the  kind,  benevolent  matron  had 
struggled,  during  all  of  these  years,  with  the 
stern  problems  of  life,  as  only  devoted  South- 
ern women  knew  how  to  struggle ;  and  verily 
she  had  succeeded  in  rearing  and  educating 
creditably  a  worthy  family,  and  now,  at  her 
departure  from  this  world,  she  thought  best,  if 
'Cinda  had  really  been  robbed  of  her  proper- 
ty, that  she  should  know  it,  and,  if  possible,  be 
put  in  a  position  to  regain  it. 

Without  tiring  the  reader  with  all  the  de- 
tails, suffice  it  to  say  that  after  the  death  of 
Mrs.  Depew  'Cinda  Houston  returned  to  the 
community  whence  came  her  mother,  and  at 
the  time  of  my  visit  to  Abe  Grimshaw's  was 
gathering  testimony  to  reclaim  the  home  of 
her  parents. 


©HAPT'Et^  }ilV. 


THE  DISTILLERY,  AND  DEATH  OF  RANDAL  FOX. 

THE  reader  will  doubtless  remember  the 
blue  column  of  smoke  and  the  noisy  cow- 
bell spoken  of  in  a  previous  chapter.  That 
column  of  smoke  did  not,  indeed,  ascend  from 
the  coals  that  slumbered  on  the  hearth  of  that 
lonely  cabin;  neither  was  the  cow-bell  knocked 
accidentally  from  its  resting-place  on  the  man- 
tel-board. There  were  other  fires  from  which 
the  column  of  smoke  arose,  and  that  bell  had 
its  mission  in  this  world. 

The  death  of  Eugene  Dudevant  brought  to 
light  some  hidden  things  connected  with  that 
cabin.  Though  he  was  an  officer  of  the  law, 
he  was  not  free  from  violations  of  the  law. 
He  and  Randal  Fox  were  intimate  friends, 
and  were  partners  in  business.  Underneath 
that  cabin  there  was  a  considerable  excavation, 
or  cellar,  in  which  was  conducted  an  immense 

distillery.     The  flues   of   this  distillery  were 
(140) 


The  DisfiUerij,  and  Death  of  Randal  Fox.  141 

built  up  into  the  large  chimney  of  the  dwell- 
ing, passing  back  of  the  large,  old-fashioned 
fire-place  into  the  flue  of  the  chimney;  hence 
the  great  volume  of  smoke  on  that  eventful 
morning  when  the  writer  was  accidentally 
ushered  into  the  presence  of  the  deaf  old  hag 
and  the  inquisitive  fat  hoy.  The  bell  was 
thrown  from  its  position  on  the  mantel,  and 
picked  up  by  the  palsied  hand  of  the  old  wom- 
an, that  its  ready  tongue  might  tell  in  unmis- 
takable language  that  a  stranger  was  present, 
thus  warning  the  operatives  in  the  cellar  to 
desist  from  any  noise  or  conversation  which 
might  betray  the  existence  of  this  hidden  dis- 
tillery. 

The  water  necessary  for  distilling  purposes 
was  conveyed  to  the  cellar  through  a  buried 
pipe  from  a  spring  on  the  mountain  -  side. 
The  pipe  was  so  ingeniously  fitted  into  the 
rock  wall  of  the  spring  that  it  could  not  be 
discovered  without  tearing  away  the  heavy 
stones  that  composed  the  wall.  The  natural 
declivity  of  the  mountain,  from  the  spring  to 
the  house,  rendered  it  easy  to  bury  the  pi23e  so 


142  The  Girl  in  Checks. 

completely  as  to  thoroughly  conceal  all  traces 
of  it.  There  was  also  a  natural  inclined  plane 
from  the  house  to  the  nearest  point  on  the 
river,  so  that  it  was  easy  to  give  an  outlet  to 
the  water,  in  the  same  manner,  into  the  river. 
The  arrangement  was  so  complete,  in  every 
particular,  that  no  one  would  have  suspected 
the  existence  of  the  huge  stills,  even  while 
standing  on  the  floor  of  the  building,  and  that, 
too,  within  a  few  inches  of  their  great  copper 
caps. 

Had  it  not  been  for  the  assassination  of  Eu- 
gene Dudevant  these  distilleries  might  have 
remained  undiscovered  to  this  day.  Fox  and 
Dudevant  were  partners  in  this  illicit  work, 
and  when  Dudevant  was  killed  he  had  papers 
on  his  person  not  only  revealing  the  existence 
of  the  distillery,  but  also  showing  that  the 
entire  plantation  was  mortgaged  to  him  for 
money  advanced  to  his  partner.  This  was  a 
revelation  to  the  community  at  large,  as  well 
as  to  the  officers,  who  had  been  Dudevant's 
most  intimate  friends. 

The   secluded  yet  beautiful  valley  of  the 


The  Distillenj,  and  Death  o/Bandal  Fox.  143 

Oolenoi  had  yielded  thousands  of  bushels 
of  corn  annually,  but  Randal  Fox's  wagons 
had,  as  the  peojDle  thought,  hauled  the  prod- 
uce to  his  home  in  one  of  the  Piedmont  coun- 
ties. But  if  those  wagons  had  been  closely 
inspected,  the  discovery  would  have  been  made 
that  they  contained  whisky  barrels,  covered 
over  with  ears  of  corn  to  conceal  them  from 
view. 

Year  after  year  this  illicit  manufacture  had 
continued;  year  after  year  that  blue  column 
of  smoke  had  ascended.,  to  the  sky  from  the 
chimney  of  that  lonely  cabin ;  year  after  year 
the  products  of  the  beautiful  valley  had  been 
converted  into  that  accursed  fluid  which  for 
a  number  of  years  had  spread  crime,  sorrow, 
and  death  through  all  the  Piedmont  region, 
as  well  as  the  lower  counties  of  the  old  Pal- 
metto State. 

Who  can  estimate  the  amount  of  suffering 
and  crime  that  Piandal  Fox  was  directly  and 
indirectly  responsible  for  during  the  twenty 
years  that  he  tilled  the  beautiful  valley  of  the 
Oolenoi?  Is  not  crime  amazingly  progressive? 


14A  The  Girl  in  Checks. 

If  justice  is  ever  vindicated,  and  punishment 
administered  to  poor  crime-stained  mortals, 
will  there  not  have  to  be  a  court  beyond  this 
life,  and  a  tribunal  infinitely  greater  and 
wiser  than  man,  before  which  transgressors 
must  appear?  Eternity  alone  will  reveal  the 
criminality  of  many  who  have  lived  and  died 
on  this  earth  respected  by  their  fellow-men. 
Like  the  distillery  under  that  crude  cabin, 
there  is  much  of  man's  criminality  that  is 
under  ground.  AVe  are  startled  sometimes 
when  such  disclosures  as  that  about  which  w^e 
have  been  writing  are  made;  but  these  reve- 
lations, fearful  as  they  are,  evidence  the  ex- 
istence of  much  that  will  never  come  to  light 
this  side  of  the  final  judgment  of  man.  These 
disclosures  are  like  yonder  granite  crag  jut- 
ting from  the  mountain-side — its  tremendous 
proportions  are  buried  in  the  sands  of  the 
earth. 

What  a  day  will  that  be  when  the  hidden 
things,  the  awful  crimes  of  men  like  Randal 
Fox,  shall  be  brought  to  light,  in  all  of  their 
hideous  and  voluminous  proportions,  by  the 


The  Disfilleri/,  and  Death  of  Randal  Fox,  145 

omnipotent  hand  of  God!  Truly  it  will  be  a 
day  when  the  wicked  will  call  upon  the  "  rocks 
and  hills  to  fall  upon  them,"  that  they  may  no 
longer  look  upon  the  desolation  and  ruin  their 
hands  have  wrought. 

There  are,  indeed,  crises  which  determine, 
very  frequently,  the  character  of  men  forever. 
Bandal  Fox  crossed  the  Rubicon  when  he  exhib- 
ited that  degree  of  cowardice  that  totally  inca- 
pacitated him  to  fight  at  his  country's  call  and 
in  her  service.  Thenceforth  he  made  war  upon 
innocence,  and  sent  sorrow  into  the  homes  of 
his  own  countrymen.  During  the  time  that 
had  elapsed  from  the  close  of  the  war  until 
the  time  of  which  I  am  writing  he  had  adroit- 
ly succeeded  in  covering  up  his  crimes;  and 
hence,  notwithstanding  his  cowardice  exhibit- 
ed in  time  of  war,  he  had  regained  the  respect, 
to  some  extent,  of  his  fellow-citizens;  but  the 
death  of  Eugene  Dudevant  laid  bare  his  wick- 
edness. 

A  little  band  of  revenue  officers,  in  obedi- 
ence to  the  demands  of  that  law  which  Eandal 

Fox  had  violated,  surrounded  his  house  and 
10 


146  The  Girl  in  Checks, 

demanded  his  person.  The  coward  was  hemmed, 
and,  knowing  the  final  result,  he  resisted  ar- 
rest, but  a  ball  from  an  officer's  rifle  sent  the 
poor  criminal  reeling  into  eternity. 


©HAPTEi^  }<}J. 


THE  GRAVE  ON  THE  LONELY  MOUNTAIN-SIDE. 

Those  that  can  pity  here 
May,  if  they  think  it  well,  let  fall  a  tear. 
The  subject  will  deserve  it. 

SOME  weeks  after  the  death  of  Eugene  Du- 
devant  I  again  reined  tip  my  horse  in  front 
of  Tom  Thaxton's  humble  home.  Louise  met 
me  at  the  door.  There  was  still  a  shadow  over 
her  bright  face.  Some  fearful  sorrow  con- 
nected with  the  death  of  the  unfortunate  rev- 
enue officer  was  evidently  burdening  her 
heart.  Her  grief,  observable  at  the  "Flat," 
when  the  assassination  of  Dudevant  was  an- 
nounced, w^as  not,  therefore,  simply  the  spas- 
modic outburst  of  the  sympathy  of  woman's 
pure  heart,  for  it  was  long-lived. 

It  was  a  very  great  problem  to  me  that  Lou- 
ise should  mourn  for  this  lewd  fellow^  But 
I  had  determined  to  take  the  matter  phil- 
osophically; for  had  not  Victor  Hugo  declared 

(147) 


us  The  Girl  in  Checks, 

that  "woman  is  tlie  conundrum  of  the  nine- 
teenth century;  we  cannot  guess  her,  but  we 
will  never  give  her  up — no,  never?  "  And  why 
should  I  wonder  at  any  mystery  that  should 
greet  me  relative  to  that  beautiful  "  Girl  in 
Checks,"  any  way;  or,  as  to  that  matter,  at 
any  thing  which  might  occur  at  Tom  Thax- 
ton's  home?  For  had  I  been  asked  to  have 
christened  that  humble  mountain  cabin,  I 
would  have  called  it  "Labyrinthine." 

My  kind,  though  untutored,  host's  tongue 
ran  smoothly  along,  as  usual,  applying  practi- 
cally whatever  incident  was  alluded  to,  for  he 
was  wonderfully  endowed  with  the  gift  of  cip- 
pUcatioyi. 

The  excitement  created  by  the  murder  of 
Dudevant  had  not  yet  passed  away,  and,  as  a 
matter  of  course,  my  host  must  speak  of  it  in 
the  line  of  his  conversation,  as  well  as  impress 
us  again  with  the  truth  that  "  the  way  of  the 
transgressor  is  hard."  But  when  he  alluded 
to  that  sad  incident  I  noticed  that  the  shadow 
on  Louise's  face  deepened.  Anon  she  stepped 
out  of  the  room,  to  attend,  as  I  supposed,  to 


The  Grave  on  the  Lonehj  Mountain-side.  149 

some  one  of  the  manj^  domestic  matters  that 
were  committed  to  her  care. 

I  was,  however,  soon  left  alone;  for  these 
mountaineers  look  upon  their  preacher  as  one 
of  their  family,  and  feel  but  little  hesitancy  in 
leaving  him  without  entertainment  when  their 
work  demands  attention.  I  was  tired  and  felt 
drowsy  from  the  fatigue  incident  to  the  long 
horseback  ride  which  I  had  just  completed. 
I  remembered  the  spout  in  the  back  yard, 
and  determined  to  bathe  my  face  in  its  pure 
waters. 

When  I  had  completed  my  ablutions  I  was 
seized  with  a  desire  to  trace  the  little  stream, 
from  cascade  to  cascade,  up  to  its  very  source. 
I  was  soon  pursuing  my  little  exploratory  ex- 
cursion. I  kept  in  a  well-worn  foot-way,  that 
wound  along  the  meandering  banks  of  the 
streamlet.  At  length,  about  half  a  mile  from 
the  house,  the  pathway  became  bifarious.  I 
turned  into  the  left  prong,  which  deflected 
into  an  almost  perfect  semicircle,  as  it  led  me 
around  a  few  immense  granite  bowlders,  and 
conducted  me  to  the  topmost  stone,  over  which 


150  The  Girl  in  Checks. 

the  streamlet  made  the  longest  perpendicular 
descent  of  any  in  its  entire  course. 

The  scene  that  greeted  my  eyes  when  I 
reached  the  top  of  the  declivity  was  truly  fas- 
cinating. The  elevation  was  such  that  I  was 
enabled  to  count  half  a  dozen  little  Piedmont 
towns  in  the  distance.  Farm-houses  nestled 
down  among  the  leafless  trees,  resembling,  on 
account  of  their  distance,  so  many  toy-houses. 
The  meandering  course  of  one  of  the  prongs  of 
the  head-waters  of  the  beautiful  Saluda  could 
be  traced  for  miles ;  ever  and  anon  its  clear  wa- 
ters flashed  in  the  sunshine  like  a  molten  cur- 
rent of  pure  silver.  In  the  distance  I  could 
see  the  black  columns  of  coal-smoke,  as  they 
belched  from  half  a  dozen  massive  enaines  on 
the  Piedmont  Air  Line  Railroad,  resemblins:, 
as  they  rose  into  the  air  and  expanded  into  a 
funnel-sha]3ed  cloud,  so  many  cyclones  sweep- 
ing leisurely  along  in  the  distance. 

The  landscape  before  me  resembled  one 
level  plateau  of  table-land,  and  finally  seemed 
to  gradually  elevate  itself  until  it  kissed  the 
clear,  blue  sky.    But  "  distance  lends  enchant- 


TJie  Grave  on  the  Lonehj  Mountain-side,  151 

ment  to  the  view,"  and  the  far-extended  land- 
scape that  stretched  out  before  me,  apparently 
so  level,  was  really  a  broken,  rugged  country. 
But  at  the  base  of  the  cliffs  upon  which  I 
stood  there  was  really  a  i:)lot  of  ground,  em- 
bracing ten  acres  perhaps,  which  was  perfect- 
ly level.  It  was  one  of  nature's  magnificent 
parks.  The  andergrowth  seemed  to  have  been 
cut  away  at  some  time,  and  the  level  plateau 
was  carpeted  with  great  bunches  of  a  kind  of 
winter  grass  indigenous  to  the  mountains.  An 
imposing  grove  of  chestnut-oaks,  with  straight 
trunks  and  bushy  tops,  covered  the  beautiful 
park.  Their  arrow-like  trunks  seemed  like  so 
many  columns  supporting  a  great  net-work  of 
leafless  limbs  and  twigs.  The  tops  of  these 
trees  waved  to  and  fro  in  their  January  bar- 
renness, almost  on  a  level  with  my  feet.  The 
scene  to  one  not  accustomed  to  look  upon  these 
lavish  handiworks  of  God  was  simply  enchant- 
ing. 

But  the  creative  skill  of  God  had  not  only 
provided  a  feast  for  the  eyes  in  this  far-ex- 
tended scene,  but  it  had  provided  for  the  ear 


152  The  Girl  in  Checks, 

the  sweetest  strains  that  mortals  can  ever  hope 
to  hear  this  side  of  the  Elysian  fields  of  heav- 
en. It  seemed  that  God  had  decreed  that  tlie 
voice  of  neither  beast  nor  bird  should  vary  the 
iEolian  strains  of  the  gurgling,  soul-lulling 
melody  of  the  splattering  little  cataract. 
Viewless  hands,  indeed,  touched  the  strings  of 
nature's  harp,  and  all  nature  besides  stood  in 
a  listening  attitude.  Every  voice  was  hushed, 
and  every  thing,  save  the  singing  waters,  was 
as  silent  as  the  tomb.  I  stood  transfixed  to  the 
spot,  scarcely  daring  to  move  hand  or  foot, 
lest  I  should  disturb  nature's  harp. 

The  spell,  however,  was  soon  broken  by  a 
voice  that  made  me  shudder.  It  seemed  to 
have  come  right  up  out  of  the  rock  upon 
which  I  was  standing.  I  listened  breathlessly; 
I  may  have  been  mistaken.  Again  it  greet- 
ed my  ears— half  sob,  half  wail.  In  slow, 
measured,  grief  -  burdened  tones  I  heard  the 
sentence:  "O  mother,  mother,  how  lonely  I 
am  without  you! " 

I  had  believed  myself  to  be  any  thing  but 
superstitious,  and  yet,  despite  my  effort   to 


The  Grave  on  the  Lonely  Mountain-side.  153 

brace  up  my  nerves,  I  found  that  a  cold,  clam- 
my perspiration  was  oozing  from  every  pore  of 
my  body.  And  then,  how  out  of  place  a  groan 
here!  Amid  these  sweet  scenes  there  should 
be  no  discord.  But  how  like  life!  No  peace- 
ful cottage  overgrown  with  flowering  ever- 
greens, nor  stately  mansion  of  the  rich,  is  ex- 
empt from  the  intrusions  of  the  black-winged 
angel  of  grief. 

Again  the  sorrow-pregnant  wail  greeted  my 
ear  in  slow,  distinct  syllables.  I  crept  noise- 
lessly to  the  edge  of  the  rock  uj^on  which  I 
was  standing,  and  looked  down  into  the  depths 
below  me.  The  mysterious  wail  was  no  long- 
er a  mystery.  There,  under  the  very  shadow 
of  the  overhanging  rock  upon  vfhich  I  was 
standing,  was  a  grave.  Small  marble  slabs, 
set  upright  in  the  earth,  marked  the  head  and 
foot  of  the  little  green  mound.  Louise  kneeled 
beside  it,  with  her  hands  clasped  over  her 
bosom,  as  if  in  the  attitude  of  prayer. 

When  she  arose  from  her  position  and  stood 
erect  I  retreated,  lest  she  should  discover  me. 
Turning  quickly  into  the   little   pathway,   I 


154  Tlie  Girl  in  Checks, 

walked  rapidly  down  the  towering  cliff.  It 
was  not  my  purpose  to  have  her  know  that  I 
had  seen  her,  for  eavesdropping,  no  matter  if 
our  position  is  determined  by  accident,  is  a 
thing  which  we  do  not  like  to  have  known  if 
we  are  guilty.  Hence  I  walked  rapidly  in  the 
direction  of  the  house;  but  just  as  I  was  near- 
ing  the  conjunction  of  the  two  paths,  described 
in  the  beginning  of  this  chapter,  she  came 
round  a  clump  of  hazel-bushes,  meeting  me, 
and  we  stood  confronting  each  other  just  at 
the  point  where  the  two  paths  came  together. 
Her  face  was  flushed  and  her  cheeks  were 
tear-stained.  I  was  embarrassed,  of  course, 
but  not  so  completely  but  that  I  was  able 
to  feign  surprise  at  meeting  her.  Who  does 
not  act  the  hypocrite  sometimes?  "I — I  beg 
pardon.  Miss  Louise.  I  felt  as  if  a  little  recre- 
ation would  benefit  me  after  my  long  ride.  I 
came  to  inspect  this  beautiful  cataract,  not 
dreaming  that  I  would  find  you  here." 

"O!"  she  said,  interrupting  my  little  im- 
promptu speech,  "  I  comie  here  every  day.  This 
is  the  dearest  spot  to  me  oh  earth.     I  will  be 


The  Grave  on  the  Lonely  Mounta in-side.  155 

your  guide,  i£  you  will  accept  my  service,  and 
we  will  go  back  to  the  little  glen  at  the  base  of 
the  falls,  named  by  my  precious  mother,  be- 
fore she  died,  the  'Last  Retreat.'  " 

I  was  glad  to  accept  her  proposition,  and 
we  turned  and  walked  up  the  winding  path- 
way that  led  to  that  sacred  spot,  the  "  Last 
Eetreat."  I  congratulated  myself  on  the  dis- 
covery which  I  had  made  and  upon  the  good 
fortune  that  seemed  likely  to  attend  my  tour 
of  exploration.  Could  it  be  true  that  the 
"  Mystery  of  the  Mountain  Cabin  "  was  about 
to  be  solved? 

We  at  length  reached  the  grave.  The  plain 
marble  head-stone  bore  this  simple  epitaph: 

Sacred 

To  THE  Memory  of 
estelle  dudevant  dunbae. 

Born  July  15, 1835  ; 

Died  May  20,  1870. 
Rest  in  Peace,  Precious  One; 
Louise  Watches  Your  Grave. 

As  I  read  this  inscription  Louise  leaned 
heavily  ujDon  my  arm,  and  wept  as  if  her  poor, 


156  Tlie  Girl  in  Checks. 

grief-burdened  heart  would  break.  At  last 
she  spoke:  "  One  month  ago  to-day  I  came  as 
usual  to  my  mother's  grave.  As  I  approached 
it  I  heard  sobs  and  groans.  I  turned  back 
and  crept  to  the  top  of  yonder  overhanging 
rock,  and  as  I  looked  down  upon  this  spot  I 
beheld  a  tall,  masculine  form  bowing  over  my 
mother's  grave.  He  wept  as  if  his  heart  were 
breaking.  He  called  my  mother's  name  and, 
kneeling  down,  he  kissed  the  cold  marble  slab 
upon  which  that  name  is  written,  and  then  in 
grief-stricken  tones  I  heard  him  say:  'OEs- 
telle,  Estelle,  precious  sister,  pardon  a  wicked, 
unfeeling  brother!'  I  was  tempted  to  rush 
from  my  hiding-place  and  make  myself  known 
to  him,  but  something  —  O  what  was  it  ?  — 
something  restrained  me.  He  at  last  threw 
himself  into  the  saddle  and  rode  away  through 
the  woods.  It  was  Eugene  Dudevant,  my  moth- 
er's only  brother,  who,  in  searching  for  the 
distillery  which  he  captured  just  one  month 
ago,  found  my  mother's  grave.  It  was  the 
first  time  I  ever  saw  him ;  alas !  I  shall  never 
see  him  again.     Twice  my  mother  was  driven 


The  Grave  on  the  Lonely  Mounta in-side.  157 

from  home;  indeed,  she  always  seemed  to  be 
hiding  from  some  fearful  persecutor;  and 
^yheu  she  died  she  asked  us  to  bury  her  here 
under  the  shadow  of  this  rock.  My  uncle 
found  her  even  here  in  this,  the  "Last  Re- 
treat," but,  thanks  to  God,  his  heart  had  been 
made  tender  at  last." 

I  led  the  weeping  girl  away  to  a  moss-cov- 
ered stone,  and  bid  her  be  seated,  and  there 
she  unfolded  to  me  the  "Mystery  of  the 
Mountain  Cabin." 


©i^APTEt^  }^Vl 


THE  VEIL  LIFTED  FROM  THE  MOUNTAIN  CABIN. 
Gloom  is  upon  thy  lonely  hearth, 
O  silent  house!  once  filled  with  mirth. 

LOUISE'S  story  was  an  old  one — as  old,  in- 
deed, as  the  Churcli  of  God  itself.  True 
religion  has  ever,  as  the  history  of  Christiani- 
ty proves,  evoked  persecution  in  some  phase  or 
other.  It  is  quite  true  that  opposition  has 
not  always  been  bold  and  positive;  yet  hatred, 
in  some  form  or  other,  has  always  manifested 
itself  in  opposition  to  genuine  Christianity 
as  a  vital  governing  principle  in  the  human 
heart. 

The  humble  itinerant  missionary  to  the 
slaves  of  South  Carolina  had  secured  from 
Louis  Dudevant  permission  to  visit  his  plan- 
tation and  preach  to  his  negroes.  These  faith- 
ful and  self-sacrificing  men  preached  a  pure 
and  plain  gospel  to  the  unfortunate  sons  of 

Ham. 

(158) 


The  Veil  Lifted.  159 

Marm  Phillis,  the  old  nurse  of  Louis  Du- 
devaiit's  children,  was  a  constant  hearer  of  the 
missionary.  Her  heart  had  been  frequently 
warmed  and  thrilled  by  the  eloquent  appeals 
and  glad  messages  which  the  man  of  God  de- 
livered. She  looked  forward  to  the  time  of 
his  visitations  with  joy  and  gladness.  She 
hummed  Methodistic  tunes  as  she  went  about 
her  daily  work  in  the  old  Dudevant  mansion; 
therefore  her  aristocratic  old  master,  who 
looked  upon  Methodism  as  a  religion  suited 
peculiarly  to  the  condition  of  the  poor  and  ig- 
norant, and  as  scarcely  worthy  of  the  consid- 
eration of  the  genteel  and  elite,  frequently 
made  jocular  remarks  about  the  zeal  and  de- 
votions of  his  old  "  Methodist  nurse." 

But  the  mission  of  Methodism,  even  from 
Louis  Dudevant's  stand-point,  was  and  is  the 
grandest  mission  that  the  world  has  ever  seen. 
Had  the  wealthy  rice -planter  turned  to  the 
eleventh  chapter  of  the  gospel  recorded  by  St. 
Matthew,  and  there  considered  the  climacteric 
arrangement  of  our  Saviour's  answer  to  the 
two  disciples  of  John  the  Bai)tist,  he  might 


160  The  Girl  in  Checks. 

have  placed  a  different  estimate  upon  the 
heaven-born  mission  of  Methodism:  "  Go  and 
show  John  again  these  things  which  ye  do 
hear  and  see:  the  blind  receiv^e  their  sight,  and 
the  lame  walk,  the  lepers  are  cleansed,  and  the 
deaf  hear,  the  dead  are  raised  np,  and  the  poor 
have  the  gospel  preached  to  them."  Glorious 
climax!  The  grandest  mission  that  any  indi- 
vidual or  that  any  Church  can  ever  engage  in 
is  to  i)reach  the  gospel  to  the  poor,  for  that 
was  the  ultimatum  of  Christ's  mission. 

But  that  system  of  religion  which  was  only 
adapted  to  the  poor  and  ignorant,  in  the  opinion 
of  Louis  Dudevant,  was  destined  to  reach  far- 
ther in  its  permeating  effects  than  the  hearts  of 
the  sable  sons  of  Ham.  It  will  one  day  perme- 
ate the  very  atmosphere  of  the  Dudevant  man- 
sion. That  system  of  religious  teaching  which 
takes  hold  upon  the  substratum  of  society  will 
finally  shape  the  superstratum.  In  its  progress- 
ive movements  religion  works  upward.  That 
which  is  nethermost  conditions  and  determines 
that  which  is  uppermost;  therefore  Christ  en- 
tered society  in  his  great  ministerial  work  just 


The  Veil  Lifted.  161 

where  society  begins  to  lose  itself  in  rags,  dis- 
ease, and  poverty.  Here,  therefore,  may  be 
found  the  only  true  solution  of  the  problem  of 
the  races. 

Already  old  Marm  Phillis  had  told,  with 
streaming  eyes,  to  her  young  mistress  the 
comforts  that  the  sermons  of  the  missionary 
had  brought  to  her  heart.  Estelle  had  list- 
ened with  interest  to  the  Joyful  experiences  of 
the  old  negress.  How  could  she  doubt  the  ut- 
terances of  her  faithful  old  nurse?  There 
was  a  vacuum  in  her .  own  heart  which  had 
never  been  filled,  though  she  had  sat  under  the 
ministry  of  the  ablest  preachers  and  most  re- 
nowned  bishops. 

Ah,  experience  is  the  citadel  of  Christianity! 
No  insidious  shaft  like  "  Robert  Elsmere"  can 
ever  penetrate  or  demolish  this  vital  factor  of 
religion  so  long  as  the  world  stands  and  men 
know  their  wants.  The  human  heart  almost 
instinctively  believes  that  what  comforts  and 
is  good  for  one  will  comfort  and  console  an- 
other.   Such  naturally  were  Estelle's  decisions 

as  she  listened  to  the  warm,  overflowing  ex- 
11 


162  The  Girl  in  Checks. 

periences  of  Marm  Pliillis;  yet  she  never 
dreamed  that  Methodism  \YOiild  one  day  be 
the  instrnment  that  would  cause  to  be  filled 
that  aching  void  in  her  own  bosom,  and  yet 
it  was  so. 

Estelle  sat  one  morning  in  a  great  cushioned 
easy-chair,  while  Marm  Phillis  was  engaged 
in  dusting  the  furniture  of  her  young  mistress's 
apartment.  Ennui  had  seized  u]3on  the  very 
soul  of  the  fair  young  mistress  of  "  The 
Oaks,"  and  she  sat  brooding  over  the  great 
lack  of  something  in  her  heart  without  which 
life  was  not  a  pleasure.  She  looked  up  from 
the  bright  beam  of  sunshine  that  had  been 
dancing  upon  the  carpet,  and  asked:  "Marm 
Pliillis,  what  makes  you  always  joyful  and 
happy?" 

The  old  negress's  countenance  beamed  with 
the  divine  afflatus  that  filled  her  humble  heart 
as  she  replied:  "De  missionary  told  me  how 
to  get  de  peace  of  God.  I  trusted  Christ,  an' 
he  saves  me,  missus." 

"He  saves  me"  kept  flashing  through  Es- 
telle's  mind,  as  she  sat  there  with  a  heart  that 


The  Veil  Lifted.  163 

was  burdened  to  its  utmost  capacity.  "He 
saves  me  " — "  can  it  be  true  tliat  she  k)iou's  it?  " 
she  queried  in  her  own  mind.  "  O,"  thought  she, 
"  I  would  give  the  world  for  that  knowledge, 
were  it  possible."  She  determined,  as  she  sat 
there  in  the  great  arm-chair  and  almost  envied 
the  joy  that  seemed  to  fill  the  old  slave's  heart, 
to  hear  the  missionary  for  herself. 

At  last  the  day  came  when  service  would  be 
held  by  the  missionary  for  the  slaves  of  the 
Dudevant  plantation.  Estelle,  accomi^anied  by 
the  overseer's  wife  and  daughter,  and  her 
faithful  old  nurse  and  attendant,  Marm  Phil- 
lis,  entered  the  little  white-washed  plantation 
chapel.  It  was  a  strange  spectacle;  the  sable 
audience  showed  their  white,  ivory-like  teeth 
between  their  parted  lips,  and  nodded  admir- 
ingly as  their  young  mistress  crossed  the 
threshold  of  the  building.  The  most  com- 
fortable pew  was  quickly  vacated  for  the  priv- 
ileged party,  and  they  were  seated,  Estelle  for 
the  first  time  in  her  life,  to  hear  a  Methodist 
preacher. 

The  missionary  entered   the   crude   puli3it 


164  The  Girl  in  CJiecls. 

and  began  the  service.  He  was  tall,  slender, 
clean-sliaven,  and  neatly  attired  in  a  close-fit- 
ting black  suit.  He  had  a  handsome,  benev- 
olent face;  indeed,  he  was  a  veritable  Meth- 
odist preacher  of  that  day.  His  emphasis, 
enunciation,  gesticulation,  and  general  deport- 
ment and  bearing  were  such  as  impress  one 
with  the  fact  of  good  breeding  and  clever- 
ness. His  sentences  were  short,  simple,  almost 
axiomatic,  yet  full  of  tenderness  and  pathos. 
As  was  common  in  that  day,  and  which  ought 
to  be  common  now,  the  preacher  discoursed 
upon  one  of  the  cardinal  doctrines  of  the  Holy 
Scriptures  — "  the  direct  witness  of  the  Holy 
Spirit."  As  he  joroceeded  in  his  discourse  he 
grew  sublimely  eloquent,  without  losing  any 
of  the  force  of  his  logic.  Estelle's  eyes  were 
riveted  upon  him,  and  her  heart,  like  Wesley's 
while  hearing  Luther's  preface  to  the  Epistle 
to  the  Eomans,  was  "  strangely  warmed."  The 
tears  of  joy  and  gladness  streamed  down  her 
fair  cheeks;  she  felt  that  the  aching  void  in  her 
heart  had  been  filled  by  the  Spirit  of  God,  and 
she  could  now  verify  the  sweet  assurance  of 


The  Veil  Lifted.  165 

which  Mariii  Phillis  had  so  frequently  told 
her. 

When  the  minister  had  concluded  his  dis- 
course and  stepped  down  from  the  crude  pul- 
pit Estelle  met  him,  grasped  his  hand,  and, 
while  tears  of  joy  streamed  down  her  cheeks, 
she  told  him  of  the  overflowing  joy  she  felt  in 
her  heart.  The  all-cleansing  blood  of  Jesus 
had  washed  another  heart  white  as  snow.  All 
of  Estelle' s  former  ideas  of  religion  had  been 
obliterated  in  a  moment.  She  now  felt  for  the 
first  time  in  her  life  a  sympathy  for  all  man- 
kind. The  great  leveling  infl.uence  of  the  gos- 
pel of  Christ  had  accomplished  its  grand,  re- 
newing, and  all-healing  work.  That  heart, 
which  ever  afterward  x^roved  a  faithful  recep- 
tacle of  divine  truth  and  of  the  Holy  Ghost, 
now  spontaneously  acknowledged  one  common 
Fatherhood,  as  well  as  one  common  brother- 
hood of  humanity. 

As  the  beautiful  girl  stood  pressing  the 
hand  of  that  faithful  servant  of  God,  surround- 
ed by  scores  of  the  ebony-hued  slaves  of  her 
father,  each  one  moved  to  tears  of  gladness  on 


166  The  Girl  in  Checks. 

their  young  mistress's  account,  the  scene  was 
an  affecting  one. 

The  transcendent  beauty  of  Christianity  is 
that  it  bridges  every  chasm,  pulls  down  every 
wall,  and  spans  every  dark  and  unexplored  val- 
ley whereby  humanity  is  separated.  It  begets 
Sympathy  of  that  broad  kind  which  takes  in 
every  class  and  condition  of  mankind. 

But  what  will  stern,  skeptical  old  Louis  Du- 
devant  say  when  the  knowledge  of  this  won- 
derful transformation  of  his  daughter's  heart 
comes  to  his  ear?  Without  thinking  of  the 
cold,  'skeptical  nature  of  her  father,  or  of  the 
little  piece  of  innocent  indecorum  of  which 
she  had  been  guilty  by  attending  service  in 
the  little  plantation  chapel,  Estelle  hastened 
into  the  presence  of  her  father,  clasping  him 
in  her  arms.  With  streaming  eyes  and  a  voice 
full  of  emotion  she  told  him  of  the  precious 
work  of  God  in  her  heart. 

Louis  Dudevant  stood  aghast!  He  could 
scarcely  believe  his  eyes  or  ears.  Could  it  be 
possible  that  his  daughter  had  so  far  forgotten 
her  rearing  as  to  violate  the  laws  of  modesty 


The  Veil  Lifted.  167 

by  leaping  over  the  very  proprieties  which 
should  have  restrained  her,  thus  bringing  a 
reproach  upon  the  proud  name  of  Dudevant 
by  imbibing  what  he  termed  the  frenzy  and 
animal  excitement  of  Methodism  ?  Ah !  he  had 
never  dreamed  that  his  fair  daughter  would 
ever  become  the  depository  of  such  a  religion. 
He  thrust  her  from  him  as  he  would  have 
spurned  a  brute,  while  he  writhed  under  the 
wound  which  his  pride  had  received.  But  he 
was  helpless;  he  could  not  undo  that  which 
God  had  wrought.  Days  and  weeks  passed 
away;  but  his  anger,  instead  of  abating,  grew 
on  him;  for  Louis  Dudevant  had  attained 
that  age  wherein  such  temperaments  as  his 
know  no  relenting  or  forgiveness.  He  was  de- 
termined to  conquer,  even  at  the  sacrifice  of 
paternal  love. 

The  missionary  was  summarily  prohibited 
from  ever  again  entering  the  little  plantation 
chapel  at  "  The  Oaks."  The  regular  inflowing 
of  merry  \'isitors  was  checked  by  the  stern, 
cynic-like  reception  they  received  from  Louis 
Dudevant,  and  by  the  declaration  of  Estelle's 


168  TJie  Girl  in  Checks. 

iiidispositiou  to  receive  company.  Thus  pain- 
ful weeks  and  months  passed  away;  home  at 
"The  Oaks"  was  dying,  dying  forever.  Eu- 
gene was  in  Europe;  so  that  Louis  Dudevant 
alone,  with  stern  face  and  rigid  features,  paced 
the  silent  ajjartments  of  his  palatial  home. 
"Home,''  did  I  say? 

He  entered  the  house — his  home  no  more 
(For  without  hearts  there  is  no  home),  and  felt 
The  solitude  of  passing  his  own  door 
Without  a  welcome. 

Marm  Phillis  went  noiselessly  about  her 
daily  vocation,  denied  even  the  privilege  of 
humming  her  favorite  songs.  But  there  was 
another  inmate  virtually  confined  within  one 
of  the  upper  chambers.  Estelle  was  indeed  an 
alien  in  her  own  father's  home.  Marm  Phil- 
lis was  the  only  being  from  whom  the  virtually 
imprisoned  maiden  received  any  sympathy. 
But  amid  her  severest  agonies  there  was  a 
source  of  never-failing  consolation  more  glo- 
rious indeed  than  those  comforting  influences 
which  spring  from  a  consciousness  on  the  part 
of  the  sufferer  that  they  have  the  sympathies 


The  Veil  Lifted.  169 

of  tlieir  fellow-beings,  for  the  Spirit  of  God 
was  there. 

Time  and  again  the  beautiful  girl  had  im- 
plored an  interview  with  her  father.  The  fair 
prisoner  for  Christ's  sake  loved  her  only  par- 
ent fervently,  and  to  effect  a  reconciliation 
was  willing  to  make  any  sacrifice  save  that  of 
giving  up  her  sincere  trust  in  Christ.  But  the 
inflexible  father  turned  away  from  her  entreat- 
ies, and  expressly  declared  that  unless  his 
daughter  turned  completely  away  from  those 
principles  of  religion  which  she  had  imbibed, 
and  again  became  the  fair  belle  of  every  ball 
at  "The  Oaks  "  and  elsewhere — the  free,  cheer- 
ful, pleasure-seeking  maiden  of  the  past — she 
must  remain  contented  forever  with  the  envi- 
ronments which  her  own  folly  had  imposed 
upon  her — an  alien  in  her  father's  home.  Such 
were  the  bitter  threats  with  which  all  of  her 
entreaties  were  met.  She  must  fll  a  tomb 
while  yet  alive,  and  live  a  living  death. 

The  proposition  was  one  at  which  every  im- 
pulse of  nature  rebelled.  The  beautiful  pris- 
oner could  never  consent  to  sacrifice  the  truth 


170  The  Girl  in  Checks. 

of  divinely-begotten  convictions;  neither  did 
she  deem  it  a  duty  to  bow,  since  she  was  a 
woman  of  lawful  age,  to  the  unyielding  and 
oppressive  demand  of  her  father,  which  grew, 
primarily,  out  of  that  pride  which  was  begot- 
ten solely  by  his  position  in  society,  so-called. 
Hence  Estelle  determined  to  step  out  from 
under  the  shadow  of  the  paternal  roof,  and 
face  the  problem  of  making  a  living  for  her- 
self and  with  the  labors  of  her  own  hands. 
That  determination  was  executed,  and  that, 
too,  without  compromising  the  principles  of 
that  holy  cause  which  had  been  planted  with- 
in her  heart.  For  under  such  circumstances 
one  is  justified  in  thrusting  into  the  back- 
ground home,  the  tender  ties  of  relationship, 
and,  indeed,  every  thing  sublunary,  for  the 
sake  of  that  One  who  has  within  himself  en- 
dured  so  much  for  us. 


©HAPT"^^  /X^ii- 


THE  ADVENT  INTO  THE  WORLD. 

Farewell,  my  home,  my  home  no  longer  now, 
Witness  of  many  a  calm  and  happy  day ; 

And  thou,  fair  eminence,  upon  whose  brow 
Dwells  the  last  sunshine  of  the  evening  ray. 

/TAEM  PHILLIS  had  carried  a  heavy 
^  j/X  heart  since  Estelle  had  made  kno%ni  to 
her  the  determination  to  leave  the  paternal 
roof;  while  Lonis  Dudevant  had  shown  no 
signs  of  relenting  in  his  sever©  and  almost  in- 
human conrse. 

Estelle  ascertained  that  Tony,  the  old  i^lan- 
tation  boatman,  wonld  in  a  few  days  make  his 
monthly  trip  down  the  great  Pee  Dee  to  his- 
toric old  Georgetowm.  This  was  Estelle's  op- 
portunity, and  she  firmly  decided  to  use  it. 

When,  therefore,  the  day  arrived  for  the  de- 
parture of  the  boat  she  w^alked  down  from  her 
room  and  going  into  the  presence  of  her  fa- 
ther boldly  announced  to  him,  for  the  last  time, 

her  intention  of  leaving  the  home  of  her  child- 
(171) 


172  The  Girl  in  Checks. 

liood  unless  lie  would  consent  to  grant  her 
that  love  and  respect  a  child  might  justly  de- 
mand from  her  parent. 

The  proud,  stern  father  looked  for  a  mo- 
ment into  her  beautiful  face,  and  there  he 
read  a  fixed  determination  plainly  written  in 
every  lineament  of  her  countenance.  One 
of  three  things  he  ought  to  have  known  would 
now  necessarily  take  place:  the  proud  father 
must  retract  his  course  of  harsh  and  cruel 
treatment,  use  physical  force  in  restraining 
his  daughter  from  her  purpose,  or  lose  her 
forever  from  his  palatial  home. 

He  was  too  proud  and  unyielding  to  ac- 
knowledge a  fault,  even  if  he  were  led  to  see 
his  error.  He  could  not  stoop  to  physical  re- 
straint, for  he  laid  some  claim  to  being  an  old- 
school  gentleman,  so  that  the  last  course  alone 
was  left  him. 

His  pride  was  wounded,  and  there  was  no 
balm  to  heal  the  ugly  scar;  hence  he  drew  his 
tall  form  up  to  its  height,  frowned  a  bitter, 
sarcastic  smile,  and  bid  his  only  daughter 
begone  from  his  presence  forever. 


The  Advent  into  the  World.  173 

Estelle  therefore  stepped  out  frora  under 
the  shadow  of  her  father's  home  to  share  the 
bitterness  of  the  cold,  iinsympathizing  world — 
a  living  example  of  the  immortal  sentiments 
of  the  sweet  singer  of  Methodism  when  he 


sung: 


"Jesus,  I  my  cross  have  taken. 

All  to  leave,  and  follow  thee; 
Naked,  poor,  despised,  forsaken, 

Thou,  from  hence,  my  all  shalt  be. 
Perish,  every  fond  ambition. 

All  I've  sought,  or  hoped,  or  known; 
Yet  how  rich  is  my  condition ! 

God  and  heaven  are  still  my  own." 

By  the  way  of  Georgetown  and  through  the 
"City  by  the  Sea,"  she  reached  Columbia. 
She  was  not  an  entire  stranger 'in  the  quiet 
old  capital  on  the  Congaree,  and  therefore  de- 
termined to  visit  at  once  an  acquaintance  and 
make  known  her  condition.  But  there  is  a 
special  j^rovidence  that  shapes  the  destiny  of 
every  child  of  God. 

She  had  scarcely  left  the  threshold  of  the 
old  "  South  Carolina  Depot,"  when  she  met  the 
missionary  who  had  so  often  preached  to  her 


174  The  Girl  in  Checks. 

father's  slaves  and  had  been  instrumental  in 
her  conversion. 

He  who  had  sympathized  with  the  poor,  de- 
graded negro  to  that  degree  that  he  was  hum- 
ble enough  to  receive  an  appointment  from 
the  bishop  to  the  slaves  of  his  native  State, 
teaching  them  the  way  of  life  in  obedience  to 
the  wishes  and  plans  of  the  immortal  Capers, 
was  certainly  sympathetic  enough  to  protect 
and  befriend  Estelle  Dudevant,  one  of  his 
spiritual  children. 

When  she  related  to  him  her  sorrowful  ex- 
perience he  immediately  conducted  her  to  the 
home  of  one  of  his  friends,  and  there  obtained 
for  her  the  situation  of  governess  of  the  chil- 
dren of  this  plain  Methodist  family.  In  her 
new  home  she  was  happy,  notwithstanding 
the  bitter  trials  of  her  life. 

She  had  indeed  counted  all  things  as  but 
dross  for  the  inestimable  privilege  of  serving 
Christ  the  Lord,  and  in  return  God  had  re- 
warded her  faith  with  the  abundant  bestowal 
of  the  riches  of  his  grace  and  Holy  Spirit. 
It  is   true  that,  viewing  her  from  a  human 


The  Advent  into  the  World.  175 

stand-point,  her  acts  may  have  been  oj^en  to 
criticism;  but  when  looked  at  from  a  divine 
j^oint  of  view  she  was  truly  wise  in  all  she  did. 
Through  a  life  of  keenest  self-denials  and  bit- 
terest cross-bearino's  she  reached  the  crown. 


©HAPTEl^  ^UIII. 


A  WIDOW  DRIVEN  FROM  HOME. 
Peace  hath  her  victories!, 
No  less  renowned  than  war. 

ESTELLE  w^s  employed  in  the  home  of 
Archie  Grant  as  governess.  This  was  a 
humiliating  position  for  a  Dudevant,  but  the 
conquests  of  divine  grace  are  mightier  and 
grander  in  every  way  than  the  victories  gained 
by  human  strength  and  through  the  prowess 
of  earthly  powers  and  equipage. 

When  the  Confederate  forces  invaded  Penn- 
sylvania General  Lee  could  not  hope  to  keep 
his  communications  open  to  the  rear;  hence 
his  staff  officers  said:  "In  every  battle  we  fight 
we  must  capture  as  much  ammunition  as  we 
use."  Thus  cut  off  from  the  store-houses  of 
the  rear,  the  invasion  was  necessarily  self-sus- 
taining. So  it  is  with  the  soul  consecrated  to 
God.     The  great  supply  stores  of  the  past  are 

forever  closed,  and  the  devoted  child  of  God 
•       (176) 


A  Widow  Driven  from  Home.  177 

feels  liis  utter  present  dependence  on  the  sus- 
taining power  of  God's  grace.  Tlie  victories 
won  equip  for  still  greater  achievements. 

Although  Estelle  had  left  so  comfortable  a 
home,  together  with  all  the  dear  associations 
of  former  days,  she  was  happy  in  her  new  re- 
lationship. In  the  pious  family  of  Archie 
Grant  she  had  every  help  conducive  to  god- 
liness. 

It  is  true  that  her  position  was  a  trying  one; 
for  God  has  never  promised  to  lead  his  chil- 
dren out  by  a  way  in  which  there  are  no  trials 
and  crosses.  The  cross  and  the  crown  are  in- 
separably linked  together.  Through  the  fel- 
lowship of  suffering  the  true  child  of  God  is 
lifted  into  the  immediate  presence  of  the 
world's  Cross-bearer.  "In  his  name"  and 
"  for  his  sake  "  are  written  in  living  characters 
over  every  trial  and  every  crushing  sorrow 
that  are  thrown  across  his  or  her  pathway. 
These  magic  sentences  transform  crosses  into 
crowns,  and  raise  the  humble  believer  into  the 
fullest  sympathy  with  the  great  life-work  of 

our  exalted  Redeemer.     God  does  not  keej)  his 
12 


178  The  Girl  in  Checks, 

cliildren  from  trouble,  but  lie  keeps  them  ia 
all  the  trials  and  calamities  incident  to  this 
preparatory  existence.  "As  he  is,  so  are  we 
in  this  world."  Whatever  sorrows,  therefore, 
may  have  filled  the  heart  of  devoted  Estelle 
on  account  of  being  disowned  and  disinherited 
b}"  a  cruel  and  hard-hearted  father,  there  was, 
nevertheless,  to  her  a  stream  of  never-failing 
consolation  flowing  continually  from  the  sweet, 
soul-refreshing  promises  of  God's  word. 

When  the  martyrly  young  woman  had 
stepped  out  from  under  the  shadow  of  the  pa- 
ternal roof  at  "The  Oaks,"  the  cruel  frown 
of  a  father  resting  like  a  black  storm-cloud 
hanging  over  a  drooping  flower  upon  her 
head,  there  was  nothing  left  her  save  her 
unshaken  confidence  in  the  bare  word  of  her 
Father  above.  But  was  not  that  enough? 
Had  not  the  Saviour  of  men  spoken  definitely 
when  he  said:  "And  every  one  that  hath  for- 
saken houses,  or  brethren,  or  sisters,  or  fa- 
ther, or  mother,  or  wife,  or  children,  or  lands, 
for  my  name's  sake,  shall  receive  an  hundred- 
fold, and  shall  inherit  everlasting  life?" 


A  Widoiv  Driven  from  Home.  179 

When  the  persecuted  "  child  of  a  King"  en- 
tered upon  her  duties  as  governess  in  the 
home  of  Archie  Grant  had  not  God  even  then 
paid  her  one  hundred  cents  on  the  dollar? 
Had  he  not  given  her  a  home  and  a  father  and 
mother  minus  persecution  and  frowns?  Had 
he  not  surrounded  her  with  the  very  sunshine 
of  heaven? 

Amid  the  genial  Christian  influences  which 
God  had  thrown  around  her  she  felt,  there- 
fore, a  satisfaction  which  can  only  be  appreci- 
ated by  those  who  have  trodden  the  rugged 
pathway  of  jDungent  sorrow,  and  who  have 
found  it  suddenly  illuminated  by  the  rays  of 
divine  light  which  have  penetrated  the  fast 
gathering  clouds  and  which  have  come  do^\ai 
with  their  mellow,  dove-like  descent  and  soul- 
cheering  splendor  upon  the  grief-burdened 
heart. 

It  would  be  uninteresting,  perhaps,  to 
trace  the  entire  history  of  Estelle  Dudevant 
while  an  inmate  of  this  quiet,  Christian 
home.  It  is  enough  to  say  that  she  re- 
mained uncompromisingly  loyal  to  her  God, 


180  The  Girl  in  Checks. 

and  (lay  by  day  she  was  supremely  happy  iii 
his  service. 

Just  a  year  prior  to  the  great  civil  struggle 
between  the  States  she  was  married  to  a 
young  merchant  in  the  capital  city — Clarence 
Dunbar.  One  child,  the  winsome  Louise,  was 
the  fruit  of  this  union. 

The  call  for  volunteers  in  defense  of  South- 
ern rights  came.  Clarence  Dunbar  was  a  pa- 
triotic son  of  Carolina.  He  felt  his  country's 
need,  and  gave  himself  to  her  service. 

It  was  a  sad  scene,  indeed,  when  the  young 
captain  pressed  his  loving  wife  and  prattling 
infant  to  his  heaving  bosom  for  the  last  time, 
a  scene— and  may  it  never  be  repeated!— which 
occurred  in  many  homes,  North  and  South. 

Alas!  one  year  after  that  event  Clarence 
Dunbar,  leading  forward  his  men,  fell  in  the 
thickest  of  the  fight.  A  soldier  of  the  "  Val- 
ley Campaign,"  they  buried  him, 

Far  up  the  lonely  monntain-side, 
in  the  still  hours  of  the  night. 

His  coffin  but  the  mountain  soil, 
His  shroud  Confederate  gray. 


A  WkJoiv  Driven  from  Home.  181 

Ah!  sad  coincident!  as  I  sat  listening  to 
Louise's  melancholy  story  I  took  it  in;  there 
was  another  "Last  Betreat,"  a  few  hundred 
miles  away  on  the  steep  declivities  of  this 
great  mountain-range — a  Confederate  soldier's 


grave. 


What  fights  he  fought,  what  wounds  he  wore, 

Are  all  unknown  to  fame; 
Remember,  on  his  lonelv  grave 

There  is  not  e'en  a  name. 

But  God  has  recorded  his  victories  and 
watches  his  last  resting-place,  therefore 

Roll,  Shenandoah,  proudly  roll,  adown  thy  rocky  glen; 
Above  thee  lies  the  grave  of  one  of  Stonewall  Jackson's 
men. 

In  the  fair  capital  of  Carolina  a  brave  sol- 
dier's wife  anxiously  awaited  tidings  from  the 
bloody  battle-field.  Tidings  came,  but  only 
to  clothe  her  in  the  mantle  of  mourning.  She 
wept  and  kissed  through  her  tears  the  smiling 
infant.  She  struggled  amid  sorrow  and  want 
for  three  years. 

The  storm-cloud  of  war  s^rew  blacker  and 
yet  blacker.     Onward  came  the  vast  column 


182  The  Girl  in  Checks. 

of  blue.  Atlanta,  tlie  great  store-house  of 
the  Southern  Confederacy,  fell.  Carolina's 
fair  yet  hated  capital  was  doomed. 

The  frail,  sorrowing  widow,  with  true  wom- 
an's instinct,  apprehended  the  fearful  ravages 
of  that  enemy  before  which  her  beloved  Clar- 
ence had  fallen;  hence,  as  the  black  and  smok- 
ing trail  of  Tecumseh  Sherman  neared  Colum- 
bia, upon  which  he  had  determined  to  pour 
all  of  his  pent-up  hate,  she  fled  to  a  place  of 
safety. 

Onward  the  creaky  old  train  bore  the  sor- 
rowful soldier's  wife  and  child,  until,  as  the 
sun  began  to  sink  behind  the  western  hills,  the 
dim  outlines  of  the  far-famed  Blue  Kidge 
loomed  up  against  the  far-away  horizon.  Hav- 
ing reached  at  last  the  terminus  of  the  railroad, 
the  grief -burdened  mother  pressed  onward  by 
private  conveyance.  Like  the  trembling  roe 
of  the  forest,  chased  by  yelping  hounds,  this 
sorrow-smitten  child  of  God  sought  some 
mountain  nook  to  hide  herself  away  from  the 
apparently  ever-pursuing  train  of  disaster. 
That  quiet  resting-place  she  found  in  the  home 


A  Widow  Driven  from  Home.  183 

of   Tom   Tliaxton,    and   at   last   beneath   the 
overshado\ying  rocks  of  the  "Last  Betreat." 

The  mystery  of  the  mountain  cabin  is  solved. 
Will  the  providence  of  God  evolve  justice  for 
the  beautiful  "  Girl  in  Checks  ?  " 


©HAPTEi^  ;<!;<. 


A  BACKWOODS  DIVINE  ON  BAPTISM. 

THE  second  visit  to  Tom  Thaxton's  had 
lifted  that  veil  of  mystery  which  hung 
over  his  humble  home,  but  the  third  stop  at 
his  hospitable  board  brought  news  of  ap- 
proaching conflict.  The  deep  mutterings  of 
the  gathering  hosts  of  "Hard-shells"  had  al- 
ready proclaimed  the  very  near  approach  of 
battle. 

I  had,  as  a  loyal  Methodist  preacher,  inci- 
dentally spoken  of  the  duty  of  infant  baptism 
in  my  last  sermon  at  the  "Flat,"  and  now  the 
very  atmosphere  was  rife  with  tumult  and  fly- 
ing missiles. 

"  Baptism  is  a  sign  and  a  seal  of  God's  cove- 
nant with  his  people.  Our  children  either  be- 
long to  that  covenant  or  they  do  not.  If  they 
do  not,  then  their  salvation  is  impossible.  But 
that  they  do  is  specifically  and  directly  re- 
vealed. '  The  promise  is  unto  you  and  to  your 
a84) 


A  Backwoods  Divine  on  Baptism.        185 

children.'  If,  therefore,  they  belong  to  that 
covenant,  they  have  a  right  to  both  the  sign 
and  seal  of  that  covenant,  and  none  should 
dare  withhold  it  from  them." 

This  was  the  utterance  that  I  had  made  rel- 
ative to  infant  baptism,  and  I  had  remarked 
also  relative  to  the  mode  of  baj^tism:  "John 
the  Baptist  sprinkled  the  multitudes  that 
flocked  to  the  baptism  of  repentance,  and 
that  sprinkling,  or  affusion,  was  the  mode  of 
baptism  under  the  apostolic  dispensation 
amounted  to  a  clear  and  undeniable  demon- 
stration. For  supj)osing  John  the  Bajjtist  to 
have  baptized  by  immersion,  it  would  have 
taken  many  months  to  have  baptized  all  who 
came  to  his  baptism.  He  had  no  assistance 
whatever.  Therefore  can  we  believe  that  he 
stood  waist-deep  in  the  cold  waters  of  the 
Jordan  for  that  length  of  time?  Would  such 
not  have  been  an  impossibility?  Would  it 
not  have  been  death  to  John? 

"Again,  that  he  baptized  by  afiPusion,  or 
sprinkling,  is  positively  revealed.  John  said: 
*  I  indeed  baptize  you  with  water  unto  repent- 


18G  The  Girl  in  Checks. 

ance :  but  lie  that  cometli  after  me  is  mightier 
than  I,  whose  shoes  I  am  not  worthy  to  bear: 
he  shall  baptize  you  with  the  Holy  Ghost,  and 
with  fire.'     (Matt.  iii.  11.) 

"Now  there  is  quite  a  difference  in  baptiz- 
ing in  water  and  ni'th  water,  but  it  is  specific- 
ally revealed  that  John  baptized  nrith  water. 

"Again,  it  must  be  admitted  that  whatever 
is  the  meaning  of  the  word  baptize  in  the  first 
clause  of  the  text,  that  also  is  the  meaning  of 
the  same  word  in  the  last  clause  of  the  text? 

"Now  St.  Luke  in  the  eleventh  chapter  of 
the  Acts  of  the  Apostles,  fifteenth  and  six- 
teenth verses,  tells  us  definitely  what  the 
meaning  of  the  word  is  in  the  last  clause  of  the 
text  relative  to  the  mode  of  baptism:  "And  as 
I  began  to  speak,  the  Holy  Ghost  fell  upon 
them,  as  on  us  at  the  beginning.  Then  re- 
membered I  the  word  of  the  Lord,  how  that 
he  said,  John  indeed  baptized  with  wa- 
ter; but  ye  shall  be  baptized  with  the  Holy 
Ghost."  Therefore  not  even  the  death  of 
Christ  for  the  sins  of  the  world  is  more  pos- 
itively revealed  than  the  mode  of  baptism. 


A  Backwoods  Divine  on  Baptism.        187 

These  deliverances  of  mine  had  set  all  that 
mountain  region  aflame  with  controversy.  As 
I  reined  up  in  front  of  Tom  Thaxton's  gate 
the  first  object  that  I  saw  was  his  tall,  an- 
gular form  approaching  me  from  the  barn. 
"  They  are  arter  you,"  he  said  as  he  came  with- 
in speaking  distance.  "Parson  Pondduck 
says  there  an't  no  covenant  now.  He  'lowed 
las'  Sunday  in  his  sarmon  ove'  at  B'ilin' 
Springs  that  God  did  make  a  covenant  with 
Abraham,  an'  that  that  was  all  the  covenant 
God  had  ever  made ;  an'  he  said  that  covenant 
had  been  dead  too  long  to  talk  about.  He 
said  the  Bible  wa'n't  no  covenant  nohow,  but 
a  testament,  an'  he  showed  us  that '  Testament ' 
was  printed  on  the  back  of  his  Bible." 

I  must  confess  that  I  was  at  a  loss  to  know 
what  argument  my  opponent  would  make  of 
this,  hence  I  listened  with  the  greatest  inter- 
est as  my  humble  parishioner  rehearsed  the 
utterances  of  this  backwoods  divine :  "  *  Now,' 
sez  ee,'why  does  God  call  the  Bible  a  testament  ? 
Beca'se  it  testifies  to  what  we  must  do  to  be 
saved.     Don't  it  tell  us  that  if  Christ  washed 


188  The  Girl  in  Checks. 

his  discij^les'  feet,  we  oiiglit  to  wash  one 
another's  feet? '  It  was  foot-washin'  day  over 
at  B  ilin'  S^jriiigs  las'  Sunday,  you  know.  I 
think  folks  oughter  wash  their  feet,  but  'pears 
powerful  strange  to  me  that  they  wait  till  they 
get  to  the  church  to  do  it.  Tell  you  what,  'twas 
a  powerful  sight  to  see  'em  scrubbin'  away  there 
in  the  church.  Mary  Jane  Jackson — that's  a 
member  over  at  the  "Flat,"  you  know — got  up 
close  for  to  see,  an'  spread  down  her  Sunday 
shawl  for  the  baby  to  sleep  on,  an'  Deacon 
Jones  turned  over  a  foot-tub  of  water  on  the 
chile  an'  shawl.  That  chile's  a  Methodist 
shoar  as  Betsy  is  my  old  'oman's  name. 
'Pear'd  to  me  you  might  'a'  hearn  that  baby 
holler  frum  here  clean  to  the  "Flat."  But  as 
I  w^as  a-sayin'  'bout  the  sarmon,  sez  ee :  '  Don't 
the  Bible  testify  that  our  Saviour  went 
down  into  the  river  Jordan?  Don't  it  tes- 
tify that  "thus  it  becometh  us  to  fulfill  all 
righteousness?"  Now  I  would  like  to  know 
how,'  sez  ee,  '  a  little  baby  is  a-goin'  down  into 
the  w^ater  an'  a-comin'  up  outen  the  water.' 
O   you  just  oughter  been  thar!     He's    done 


A  Backicoods  Diiine  on  Baptism.        189 

funeralizecl  all  tlie  Cliristians — Methodist, 
Missionary  Baptist,  an'  all  'ceptin'  them  that's 
Hard-shells." 

This  short  pre'face,  delivered  as  he  stood 
holding  my  bridle-reins,  was  enough  to  lead 
me  to  believe  that  there  was  a  treat  in  store 
for  me  after  supper.  I  felt  assured  that  I 
would  learn  much  of  polemic  theology  before 
the  time  came  to  stow  me  away  in  the  little 
back  room  for  the  night.  And  O  how  my 
heart  yearned  for  the  enlightening  influences 
"of  education  and  the  gospel  of  Christ  to  be 
spread  over  these  dark  coves  and  frowning 
peaks ! 

Is  it  at  all  surprising  that  the  Mormon  eld- 
er on  his  missionary,  or  rather  proselyting, 
tours  through  these  benighted  regions  should 
make  converts  to  his  abominable  creed?  Xay, 
verily ! 

So  after  supper  was  over  I  asked  my  host  to 
give  me  a  synopsis  of  Parson  Pondduck's  ser- 
mon. 

"O  he  didn't  say  nuthin"  bout  them  big 
fureign  words,  for  you  know  he's  an  onlarnt 


190  The  Girl  in  Checks. 

man.  But  lie  'lowed  lie  wer'nt  afraid  of  some 
preacliers  who  liad  rubbed  tlieir  back  agiu  a 
college  wall,  if  they  did  have  a  prophet's  name. 
Sez  ee:  'My  larnin'  an'  wisdom  comes  down 
from  above,  an'  all  I  have  to  do  to  preach  the 
everlastin'  gospel  is  to  open  my  mouth  and 
the  Holy  Ghost  fills  it'  " 

Here  Betsy  Tliaxton  chimed  in:  "Well,  if 
the  Holy  Ghost  put  them  words  into  Parson 
Pondduck's  mouth,  he  must  'a'  been  funniii'; 
fur  anybody  that  reads  the  Scriptur'  knows 
that  it  did  not  sound  like  Scriptur'  doctrine." 

This  apparently  irreverent  remark  was  cer- 
tainly to  the  point.  I  was  ready  to  believe 
with  her  that  the  ever  blessed  Spirit  of  truth 
would  in  nowise  own  such  mutilations  of  the 
Holy  Book. 

Her  remark  served  one  purpose,  however: 
it  gave  Tom  Tliaxton  time  to  fill  and  light  the 
old  clay  pipe  that  had,  to  all  appearances, 
done  many  days'  honest  labor. 

Thus  equipped,  my  host  gave  me  a  repro- 
duction of  that  part  of  Parson  Pondduck's 
sermon  which  touched   especially   upon  the 


A  Bachuood.-i  Divine  on  Baptism.        191 

doctrine  of  ba23tism  and  "  the  final  persever- 
ance of  tlie  saints." 

As  nearly  as  I  can  re^oroduce  it  on  paper  it 
ran  something  like  this: 

'"O  my  breethren,  I  went  out  behind  my 
garden  fur  to  pray  er,  an'  while  I  avus  a-pray- 
in'  er  I  hearn  somethin'  a-comin'  along  through 
the  woods  te-tip-e-te-tip  er,  te-tip-e-te-tip  er; 
an'  what  do  you  reckon  it  wus  er?  A  poor 
little  fawn  er.  On  it  went  er,  down  towards 
the  river  er,  te-tip-e-te-tip  er,  te-tip-e-te-tip  er, 
an'  ker-splunge  it  went  into  that  liquid  grave 
er,  an'  straight  it  went  to  the  tother  side  er, 
safe  er,  O  mv  breethren,  safe  er.  Then  I 
hearn  somethin'  a  comin'  along  to-bow-wow- 
wow,  to-bow-wow-wow  er.  An'  O  mv  breeth- 
ren,  what  do  vou  reckon  that  wus  er?  It  wus 
Eill  Davis's  old  hound,  Tige  er,  close  on  trail 
of  that  poor  little  fawn  er.  He  went  on  down 
to  the  cold  water's  aige  er,  to-bow-wow-wow  er, 
to-bow-wow-wow  er,  but  he  could  not  stem 
that  cold  current  er.  He  ran  up  an'  down  the 
bank  er,  to-bow-wow-wow  er,  etc.  Now,  my 
breethren,  what  does  all  this  mean  er?     Why 


192  The  Girl  in  Checks. 

the  little  fawn  is  the  poor  sinner  er.  He 
comes  along,  te-tip-e-te-tip  er,  te-tip-e-te-tip  er, 
an'  ker-splunge  he  goes  down  into  the  cold, 
watery  grave  er,  an'  out  on  the  other  side  er, 
safe  er.  O  yes,  my  breethren,  safe  er,  that's 
the  word,  safe  er.  Old  Satan,  like  Bill  Davis's 
old  Tige  er,  comes  along  close  on  his  trail  er, 
to-bow-wow-wow  er,  to-bow-wow-wow  er;  but 
O  my  breethren,  he  can't  stem  that  cold  cur- 
rent er,  he  just  runs  up  an'  down  the  bank  er, 
to-bow-wow-wow  er,  to-bow-wow-wow  er,  safe 
er;  yes,  that's  the  word,  safe  er,  forevermore 
er.  Now,  my  breethren,  we  uns  are  the  onli- 
est  ones  that  have  done  as  God's  word  testi- 
fies we  should  do,  an'  we  uns  alone  can  expect 
to  be  saved  er,  beca'se  we  have  come  out  from 
among  them  er,  an'  we  have  thusly  left  the 
devil  on  the  other  side  er.  Safe  er.  O  yes, 
my  breethren,  safe  er.' " 

Such,  indeed,  were  the  Ciceronian  cadences 
which  my  remarks  on  baptism  had  evoked.  I 
had  disturbed  the  peace  of  Zion,  and  had 
been  left,  therefore,  on  the  other  side  in  com- 
pany with  old  Tige  as  a  punishment  for  my 


A  Backwoods  Divine  on  Baptism.        193 

very  imtimely  deliverances  on  the  subject  of 
water  baptism.  But  I  am  glad  to  know  that 
I  had  a  defender  present  on  that  occasion  in 
the  person  of  Sallie  Flinn. 

"Well  you  just  oughter  hearn  the  arguf}^- 
ins:  after  the  sarmon  was  over.  Some  was  al- 
most  fightin'  mad.  I  didn't  say  a  word,  but 
it  'peared  to  me  that  Satan  would  be  powerful 
glad  to  have  a  chance  to  plunge  into  that  cold 
stream.  Me  an'  Parson  Pondduck  rid  off  to- 
gether, bein'  that  we  went  the  same  road.  I 
didn't  let  on  that  his  sarmon  hurt  me  at  all. 
So  we  came  on  a-talkin'  'bout  the  craps  an' 
one  thing  an'  other,  till  'fore  long  we  overtuck 
Sallie  Flinn.  I  seed  Sallie  was  as  mad  as  a 
wet  hen.  I  know'd  Sallie,  and  know'd  Parson 
Pondduck  was  goin'  to  ketch  it.  Sez  I :  '  How- 
dy Sallie,  how's  all? '  She  'lowed:  '"We  uns  are 
all  well,  'ceptin'  Bill  Davis's  old  Tige  is  close 
on  our  trail,  an'  we  han't  quite  made  up  our 
minds  to  jump  into  the  liquid  grave.'  Sez  she: 
'  I  alwaj^s  knowed  old  Tige  was  powerful  bad 
after  sheep,  but  I  never  yet  hearn  of  a  sheep 

a-takin'  water,  if  a  poor  little  fawn  did.'     An' 
o 


194  The  Girl  in  Checks. 

sez  she :  '  Parson  Pondduck,  you  have  added  to 
the  Scriptur'  to-day,  an'  I'd  hate  to  be  in  your 
shoes.  For  the  Bible  says  all  them  plagues 
mentioned  in  Revelation  is  goin'  to  be  added 
to  you.  An'  mor'n  that,  the  Bible  says  the 
devil  is  like  a  roarin'  lion,  but  you  said  he  was 
like  Bill  Davis'  old  suck-egg  hound.  If  I 
thought  the  devil  was  as  'feard  of  me  as  old 
Tige,  I'd  rest  mighty  easy  in  this  world,  I  tell 
you.  I  could  slap  my  hands  and  run  him 
outen  a  hundred-acre  field.  An'  mor'n  that, 
what  you  said  wa'n't  in  the  Scriptur.'  I  don't 
know  what  Sallie  was  a-goin'  to  say,  for  when 
she  said  that  Parson  Pondduck  laid  whip  to 
his  old  bone-stack,  an'  went  pacing  over  the 
hill  like  a  greased  streak  of  lightnin'.  He 
know'd  he  couldn't  hold  no  han'  with  Sallie, 
for  she's  one  of  'em  as  shoar  as  you  live. 
She'll  be  at  the  "  Flat "  to-morrow,  an'  she'll 
want  you  to  pitch  into  the  Parson,  but  if  I 
were  you  I  wouldn't  pay  no  'tention  to  him. 
No  good  ever  comes  of  argufying,  nohow." 

The  good  advice  of  my  host  was  easily  kept. 
I  declined  answering  the  backwoods  divine. 


A  Backwoods  Divine  on  Baptism.       195 

Yet  I  wondered  why  tlie  Holy  Spirit  had  never 
moved  the  hearts  of  devoted  men  and  women 
to  enter  these  dark  valleys,  bringing  with  them 
a  purer  word  of  life  than  that  which  prevailed. 
But  God  in  his  mysterious  providence  had 
sent  one  missionary  here,  and  her  body  rests 
in  the  "Last  Ketreat,"  and  as  we  shall  see, 
she  "being  dead  yet  speaketh." 

When  I  retired  for  the  night  it  was  to  dream 
over  fleeing  fawns  and  chasing  hounds.  But 
little  did  I  imagine  that  a  deer-chase  would 
soon  have  much  to  do  in  restoring  the  rights 
of  Louise  and  'Cinda,  yet  it  was  so. 


©HAT®"T"£i^  ?<?<■■ 


M 


A  NEW-FASHIONED  SHIRT  AND  A  DEER-CHASE. 

Why  weep  faint-hearted  and  forlorn,  when  evil  comes 
to  try  us  ? 
The  fount  of  hope  wells  ever  nigh ;  'twill  cheer  us 
with  a  quaff; 
And  when  the  gloomy  phantom  of  despondency  stands 
bv  us, 
Let  us,  in  calm  defiance,  exorcise  it  with  a  laugh. 

"Y  backwoods  opponent  was  evidently  a 
liydropatliist,  and  liis  strictures  on  his 
Jiomespun  science  of  hydrology  had  at  least 
wrought  one  beneficial  result — it  had  exercised 
to  their  utmost  capacity  my  risible  functions. 
No  wonder,  therefore,  that  I  slept  so  soundly 
after  retiring  that  it  was  necessary  for  my 
host  to  enter  my  room  about  eight  o'clock, 
Saturday  morning,  for  the  purpose  of  remind- 
ing me  that  I  had  an  appointment  for  that  day 
at  the  "Flat." 

Having    grown    more    familiar    with    me, 

through  an  association  of  several  months,  he 
(196) 


A  New-fashioned  Shirt  and  a  Deer-chase.  197 

not  only  took  tlie  liberty  of  entering  my  apart- 
ment, but,  taking  hold  of  me  with  vise-like 
grip,  he  gave  my  body  a  vigorous  shake,  thus 
tearing  me  completely  away  from  the  arms  of 
JMorpheus,  and  at  the  same  time  informing  me 
that  it  was  "  nigh  onto  time  for  to  eat  a  bite." 
He  seemed  determined  not  only  to  arouse  me 
from  my  slumbers,  but  to  remain  with  me  un- 
til I  was  ready  for  the  "spout."  The  arrange- 
ment of  my  toilet  was  to  him  an  item  of  con- 
siderable interest.  While  I  adjusted  my 
collar  and  cuffs  he  remarked:  "Well,  did  I 
ever!  I  never  saw  a  shirt  before  that  you 
could  take  to  pieces  an'  put  together  ag'in 
'thout  bein'  sewed.  An',  would  you  b'lieve  it, 
it's  one  of  them  kind  that  opens  in  the  back. 
I've  heam  about  them  kind  before.  Parson 
Pondduck  got  hold  o'  one  down  at  the  baptiz- 
in'  at  Jones's  mill-pond,  an'  got  it  on  wrong. 
I  tell  you  it  caused  a  sight  o'  merriment 
amongst  the  youngsters." 

Knowing  that  there  was  a  laugh  in  store  for 
me  that  would  shake  off  the  last  bit  of  drow- 
siness, I  inquired  how  it  was. 


198  The  Girl  in  Checks. 

"  Well,  you  see,  tliey  had  a  baptiziii'  down  at 
Brother  Jones's  mill-pond,  after  preachin'  at 
Long  Branch.  'Pears  powerful  curious  that 
thev  name  all  their  meetin'-houses  after  the 
water-courses,  don't  it?  But,  as  I  was  goin' 
for  to  say,  the  parson,  when  he  got  down  to 
the  pond,  saw  that  he  had  forgot  to  fetch  a 
suit  of  clothes  for  to  change,  an'  them  he  had 
on  were  his  Sunday  ones.  So  he  had  to  bor- 
row a  suit  from  Billy  Jones.  Billy,  you  know, 
is  always  up  to  some  prank.  So  off  he  goes  to 
the  house  an'  fetches  his  Sunday  shirt  an' 
pants;  that  was  all  the  clothes  the  parson 
wanted.  Billy  is  a  i:)owerful  heavy-sot,  chunky 
fellow,  you  know,  an'  the  parson  is  an  oncom- 
monly  long  man.  They  say  Billy's  shirt  an' 
pants  looked  a  sight  on  him.  Billy  let  him 
have  his  Sunday  shirt.  As  I  said,  it  was  one 
he'd  bought  outen  the  store  down  at  Greenville, 
an'  it  opened  in  the  back  like  yourn.  Parson 
Pondduck,  'pears,  never  had  seen  nor  hearn  tell 
of  them  kind  o'  shirts,  an'  when  he  put  it  on 
he  buttoned  it  in  front.  As  I  said,  he  didn't 
have   on  any  coat,   nor   galluses    nuther.     It 


A  Neir-fashioned  Shirt  and  a  Deer-chase.  199 

stuck  powerful  close  to  his  breast,  an'  humped 
up  oncommonl}^  high  on  his  back.  When  he 
come  clown  to  the  pond  with  Billy's  breeches 
a-comin'  'bout  to  his  knees,  an'  that  starched 
shirt-bosom  a-puffin'  up  on  his  back,  they  say 
he  were  a  funny  sight.  They  say  wdien  the 
parson  would  stoop  down  for  to  put  'em  under 
the  water  it  'pear'd  like  he  was  i^lum  disj'int- 
ed,  an'  the  fore  part  a-stickin'  so  close  to  his 
chest  made  him  look  like  he  would  break  clean 
in  two." 

And  so  the  sight  must  have  been  an  amusing 
one  indeed.  I  do  not  know  what  further 
comment  my  host  may  have  made  on  the  par- 
son's attire,  for  just  then  I  began  to  adjust  a 
pair  of  cuff -supporters,  and  they  took  his  eye 
as  something  altogether  noA'el.  Being  also  a 
little  stoop-shouldered,  having  caused  it  by 
carelessness  relative  to  bodily  carriage,  and, 
being  yet  3'oung,  I  had  determined,  if  possi- 
ble, to  remedy  that  defect  in  my  form;  hence 
I  was  in  the  act  of  adjusting  my  shoulder- 
brace  when  my  host's  eyes  dilated  with  large 
wonder  as  he  remarked:  "AYell,  I  never  saw 


200  The  Girl  in  Checks. 

so  many  trappin's  on  one  man  before.  You 
shoarly  feel  like  Parson  Pondduck  looked;  yon 
mns'  be  afeard  yon'll  come  onj'inted." 

I  was  not  a  little  amused,  I  must  confess,  at 
my  host's  remarks.  But  when  I  had  completed, 
my  toilet,  and  had  bathed  at  the  spout,  break- 
fast was  announced;  and  there,  I  must  say,  I 
was  considerably  embarrassed  as  my  host  fa- 
cetiously declared  to  the  family  that  "  Our  lit- 
tle preacher  has  got  on  his  harness,  an'  is  ready 
for  to  pitch  into  Parson  Pondduck." 

As  ridiculous  as  was  this  homespun  sally, 
it  was  instrumental  in  causing  me  to  lay  aside 
the  shoulder-brace  forever,  and  to  determine 
ever  afterward  to  work  without  Jiarness. 

After  breakfast  we  sat  awhile  on  the  little 
back  piazza,  listening  to  hounds  yelping  in 
the  distance.  It  was  a  deer-chase,  and  the 
course  which  the  agile  animal  was  taking 
could  be  distinctly  traced  by  the  sound  of  the 
yelping  pack,  as  it  floated  out  on  the  calm, 
clear  atmosphere  of  that  beautiful  September 

morning. 

But  it  will  prove  to  be  a  lucky  chase.     It 


A  New-fashioned  Shirt  and  a  Deer-chase,  201 

will  be  instrumental  in  restoring  rights  forgot- 
ten and  in  setting  aright  wrongs  that  were 
deliberate  and  premeditated. 

There  is  indeed  a  divine  special  providence 
over  all  of  God's  children.  "For  we  know," 
declares  the  great  apostle  to  the  Gentiles, 
"that  all  things  work  together  for  good  to 
them  that  love  God." 

Behind  the  dim  unknown 

Standeth  God  within  the  shadow, 
Keeping  watch  above  his  own. 


®HAP'T"£^i^  ;<;><i. 


A  CAMP-HUNT,  AND  HOW  IT  TERMINATED. 

"'OTHING,  perhaps,  iu  the  line  of  outdoor 
sports  gives  more  real  enjoyment  and 
yields  more  pleasurable  recreation  than  a 
camp-hunt  in  the  mountains.  It  is  an  old 
custom  in  South  Carolina.  Low-country  men 
frequently  visit  the  mountains,  and  spend 
weeks  under  canvas.  The  pure  atmosphere 
of  the  great  Appalachian  chain,  the  savory 
venison,  the  delicious  trout,  together  with  the 
outdoor  exercise  incident  to  such  a  trip,  lend 
to  it  many  fascinations,    ^-f- 

A  party  of  hunters  had,  at  the  time  of  which 
I  write,  pitched  their  tent  in  the  beautiful  val- 
ley extending  along  the  base  of  Table  Rock. 
The  hounds  to  which  we  had  been  listening 
belonged  to  the  persons  composing  this  camp. 
The  leading  spirit  of  this  little  band  of  hunt- 
ers was  Wilbur  Legrand.  He  was  a  descend- 
ant of  one  among  the  oldest  and  best  Huguenot 
(202) 


A  Camp-hunt y  and  Hoiv  It  Terminated.  203 

families  in  Lower  Carolina.  He  had  completed 
his  education  a  year  previous  to  the  incident 
about  ^yhich  I  am  writing.  He  had  returned 
to  his  home,  after  receiving  his  dij^loma,  just 
in  time  to  witness  the  death  of  his  father. 
That  sad  event  left  him — he  being  the  only 
child,  and  his  mother  having  died  several 
years  previous — sole  heir  to  the  old  home- 
stead, which  joined  the  broad  fields  of  the  un- 
fortunate Eugene  Dudevant — "The  Oaks." 
Wilbur  Legrand  was  thus  left  alone  in  the 
world,  and  the  camp-hunt  of  which  we  have 
spoken  was  somewhat  the  result  of  his  loneli- 
ness. He  had,  in  company  with  a  number  of 
associates,  determined  to  seek  recreation  in 
this  way. 

0\\  the  morning  of  which  we  speak  Wilbur 
Legrand  had  placed  himself  at  the  head  of  the 
valley,  in  a  narrow  ravine,  close  to  a  large 
spring  of  jywre  water.  This  was  a  point  by 
which  the  deer  generally  i^assed  in  their  flight 
from  the  valley  to  a  safe  retreat  among  the 
towering  crags.  It  was  only  a  few  hundred 
yards   from    Tom   Thaxton's   dwelling.     The 


204.  The  Girl  in  Checks. 

spring  by  which  he  stood  was  the  one  from 
which  the  Thaxtou  family  secured  drinking- 
water. 

The  handsome  young  hunter  took  his  stand, 
and  eagerly  watched  for  the  form  of  the  flying 
deer.  The  exciting  yelp  of  the  hounds  came 
nearer  and  yet  nearer.  Every  nerve  of  the 
young  hunter  now  quivered  with  excitement. 
He  looked  steadily  down  the  ravine,  expecting 
every  moment  to  catch  sight  of  the  large  ant- 
lers of  the  bounding  buck;  but  alas!  just  as 
the  game  was  almost  in  sight  the  panting  ani- 
mal changed  its  course,  and  the  yelp  of  the 
hounds  grew  fainter  and  yet  fainter  as  they 
receded  toward  the  western  side  of  the  valley. 
Disappointed  and  provoked,  the  young  hunter 
stretched  at  full  length  upon  one  of  the  moss- 
covered  rocks  by  the  spring,  and  listened  for 
a  shot  from  some  more  fortunate  member  of 
the  party.  As  he  lay  there  in  a  listening  atti- 
tude the  reaction  of  the  nervous  system  pre- 
cipitated him  into  a  dreamy  reverie.  He  was 
aroused,  however,  from  this  semi-conscious 
state  by  sounds  in  the  distance.     Could  it  be 


A  Caniij-huntj  and  How  It  Terminateil.  205 

that  the  hounds  were  returnmg?  He  grasped 
his  gun  and  sprung  to  his  feet,  but  when  he 
had  shaken  the  dreamy  slumber  from  his  per- 
son he  realized  that  the  approaching  sound 
came  from  human  lips.  He  listened;  it  was 
the  sweetest  voice  that  had  ever  greeted  his 
ears.  Nearer  and  yet  nearer  it  came ;  he  stood 
spell-bound  by  the  mellifluous  symphonies. 
Now  he  could  distinguish  the  air,  and  now  the 
words : 

An  exile  from  home,  splendor  dazzles  in  vain ; 

O  give  me  my  lowly  thatched  cottage  again. 

The  birds  singing  gayly  that  come  to  my  call — 

Give  me  them,  with  the  peace  of  mind  dearer  than  all. 

Home !  home !  sweet,  sweet  home  ! 

There's  no  place  like  home!  there's  no  place  like  home! 

It  was  the  second  stanza  of  John  Howard 
Pavne's  immortal  son2:. 

Now  he  caught  the  first  glimpse  of  the 
sweet  songstress  through  the  heavy  timber  and 
thick  foliage  on  the  mountain  -  side,  down 
which  she  was  coming.  In  one  hand  she  car- 
ried a  rude  wooden  bucket,  and  in  the  other  a 
jar  of  milk,  to  be  deposited  in  the  crude  old 


206  The  Girl  in  Checks. 

mossy  spring-house.  Tlie  young  hunter  was 
enraptured  as  he  gazed  on  the  lovely  form 
slowly  and  gracefully  descending  the  mount- 
ain-side. Her  exquisite  beauty  was  as  enchant- 
ing as  the  sweet  strains  flowing  from  her  ruby 
lil3S,  which  were  taken  up  and  rolled  back 
in  echoes  by  a  score  of  towering  mountains. 
xls  he  looked  upon  the  unadorned  beauty  of 
Louise  Dunbar,  alias  Thaxton,  clad  in  her 
coarse  mountain  garb,  he  spontaneously  ejac- 
ulated: "Give  me  the  pure  lily  from  the  clefts 
of  the  rocky  mountain's  side,  whose  first  love 
is  my  own." 

Their  eyes  met  for  the  first  time.  The 
slight  embarrassment  incident  to  so  sudden 
a  meeting  was  soon  dispelled  by  that  grace 
and  suavity  of  manner  which  love  begets. 
Need  I  say  more?  Does  not  the  reader  un- 
derstand? 

We  were  still  sitting  in  the  little  back  piazza 
when  Louise  returned  from  the  spring,  accom- 
panied by  "Wilbur  Legrand.  She  walked  by 
his  side,  blushing  at  every  step,  while  he  car- 
ried in  one  hand  the  huge,  double-barreled 


A  Camp-hunt,  and  How  It  Terminated.  207 

deer-gun,  and  in  tlie  other  a  pail  of  pure  wa- 
ter from  the  mountain  spring.  The  indica- 
tions were  plain  enough — Cupid  had  made  in- 
curable wounds,  and  Wilbur  Legrand  would 
pluck  the  lily  from  the  rocky  cleft  of  the 
mountain-side. 

One  year  aftei  the  event  just  recorded  there 
was  a  dual  wedding  in  Tom  Thaxton's  humble 
cabin.  Legrand  plucked  the  mountain  lily; 
and  George  Duvall,  one  of  Legrand's  dearest 
friends,  and  a  companion  also  in  that  camp- 
hunt,  claimed  'Cinda  Houston,  "one  o'  the 
best  o'  the  'oman  kind,"  as  Abe  Grimshaw 
would  say,  as  his  bride. 

'Cinda  Houston's  property  was  restored 
through  Louise,  it  having  passed  into  her 
hands  at  the  death  of  Eugene  Dudevant,  who 
held  it  by  mortgage. 

Louise  Legrand  lives  at  "The  Oaks,"  and 
George  Duvall,  having  purchased  "Wilbur  Le- 
grand's old  homestead,  resides  there,  so  that 
'Cinda  and  Louise  are  near  neighbors  still. 

Honest  Tom  Thaxton  and  his  devoted  wife 
sleep  in  the  "Last  Retreat,"  under  the  shad- 


208  The  Girl  in  Checks. 

ow  of  the  great  rocks;  so  there  are  three 
graves  there  now. 

Two  magnificent  summer  residences  are  be- 
ing built — one  on  the  site  of  Sam  Houston's 
old  building,  overlooking  the  beautiful  valley 
of  the  Oolenoi ;  and  another  on  the  spot  which 
Tom  Thaxton's  humble  cabin  formerly  occu- 
pied, that  property  having  been  willed  to  Lou- 
ise by  Tom  Thaxton  before  he  died. 

Methodism  is  the  religion  of  these  two 
homes;  and  now  the  dark  mantle  of  ignorance 
has  been  lifted  from  the  community  around 
the  "  Flat,"  and  the  Rose  of  Sharon  is  bloom- 
ing on  the  rugged  mountain-side. 

Parson  Pondduck  has  sought  the  deep  for- 
ests of  Transylvania  as  the  field  for  his  po- 
lemic battles.  May  peace  attend  his  efforts! 
Eight  has  triumphed.  There  is  a  special  prov- 
idence. 


The  End. 


